University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

Gift  of 
THE  HEARST  CORPORATION 


THE 


Hoosier   School-Master. 


A   NOVEL. 


BY 

EDWARD    EGGLESTON. 


WITH    TWENTY-NINE    ILLUSTRATIONa 


NEW  YORK: 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS, 

743  AND  745  BROADWAY. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871,  by 

ORANGE   JUDD    &    Co., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


PREFACE. 


I  MAY  as  well  confess,  what  it  would  be  affectation  to  conceal, 
that  I  am  more  than  pleased  with  the  generous  reception  accorded 
to  this  story  as  a  serial  in  the  columns  of  Hearth  and  Home.  It  has 
been  in  my  mind  since  I  was  a  Hoosier  boy  to  do  something  toward 
describing  life  in  the  back-country  districts  of  the  Western  States. 
It  used  to  be  a  matter  of  no  little  jealousy  with  us,  I  remember, 
that  the  manners,  customs,  thoughts,  and  feelings  of  New  England 
country  people  filled  so  large  a  place  in  books,  while  our  life,  not 
less  interesting,  not  less  romantic,  and  certainly  not  less  filled 
with  humorous  and  grotesque  material,  had  no  place  in  literature. 
It  was  as  though  we  were  shut  out  of  good  society.  And,  with 
the  single  exception  of  Alice  Gary,  perhaps,  our  Western  writers 
did  not  dare  speak  of  the  West  otherwise  than  as  the  unreal  world 
to  which  Cooper's  lively  imagination  had  given  birth. 

I  had  some  anxiety  lest  Western  readers  should  take  offense  at 
my  selecting  what  must  always  seem  an  exceptional  phase  of 
life  to  those  who  have  grown  up  in  the  more  refined  regions  of 
the  West.  But  nowhere  has  the  School-master  been  received 
more  kindly  than  in  his  own  country  and  among  his  own  people. 

Some  of  those  who  have  spoken  kindly  of  the  School-mas- 
ter and  his  friends,  have  suggested  that  the  story  is  an  autobi- 


6  PREFACE. 

ography.  But  it  is  not,  save  in  the  sense  in  which  every  work  of 
art  is  an  autobiography,  in  that  it  is  the  result  of  the  experience 
and  observation  of  the  writer.  Readers  will  therefore  bear  in 
mind  that  not  Ralph  nor  Bud  nor  Brother  Sodom  nor  Dr. 
Small  represents  the  writer,  nor  do  I  appear,  as  Talleyrand  said 
of  Madame  de  Stael,  "  disguised  as  a  woman,"  in  the  person  of 
Hannah  or  Mirandy.  Some  of  the  incidents  have  been  drawn 
from  life  ;  none  of  them,  I  believe,  from  my  own.  I  should  like 
to  be  considered  a  member  of  the  Church  of  the  Best  Licks, 
however. 

It  has  been  in  my  mind  to  append  some  remarks,  philological 
and  otherwise,  upon  the  dialect,  but  Professor  Lowell's  admirable 
and  erudite  preface  to  the  Biglow  Papers  must  be  the  despair  of 
every  one  who  aspires  to  write  on  Americanisms.  To  Mr.  Lowell 
belongs  the  distinction  of  being  the  only  one  of  our  most  eminent 
authors  and  the  only  one  of  our  most  eminent  scholars  who 
has  given  careful  attention  to  American  dialects.  But  while  I 
have  not  ventured  to  discuss  the  provincialisms  of  the  Indiana 
backwoods,  1  have  been  careful  to  preserve  the  true  usus  loquendi 
of  each  locution,  and  I  trust  my  little  story  may  afford  material 
for  some  one  better  qualified  than  I  to  criticise  the  dialect. 

I  wish  to  dedicate  this  book  to  Rev.  Williamson  Terrell,  D.D  , 
of  Columbus,  Indiana,  the  Hoosier  that  I  know  best,  and  the 
best  Hoosier  that  I  know.  This  is  not  the  place  to  express 
the  reverence  and  filial  affection  I  feel  for  him,  but  I  am  glad  of 
the  opportunity  of  saying  that  there  is  no  one  to  whom  South- 
ern Indiana  owes  a  larger  debt.  Perhaps  my  dedication  to  so 
orthodox  a  man  may  atone  for  any  heresies  in  the  book. 

BROOKLYN,  December,  1871. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I.- 

CHAPTER 

II.- 

CHAPTER 

III.- 

CHAPTER 

IV.- 

CHAPTER 

V.- 

CHAPTER 

VI.- 

CHAPTER 

VII.- 

CHAPTER 

VIII.- 

CHAPTER 

IX.- 

CHAPTER 

X. 

CHAPTER 

XI.- 

CHAPTER 

XII.- 

CHAPTER 

XIII.- 

CHAPTER 

XIV. 

CHAPTER 

XV.- 

CHAPTER 

XVI.- 

CHAPTER 

XVIL 

CHAPTER 

XVIII.- 

CHAPTER 

XIX. 

CHAPTER 

XX. 

CHAPTER 

XXI.- 

CHAPTER 

XXII. 

CHAPTER 

XXIII. 

CHAPTER 

XXIV. 

CHAPTER 

XXV. 

CHAPTER 

XXVI.- 

CHAPTER 

XXVII. 

CHAPTER 

XXVIII. 

CHAPTER 

XXIX. 

—A  Private  Lesson  from  a  Bull-dog 11 

—A  Spell  Coming 23 

— Mirandy,  Hank,  and  Shocky 26 

—Spelling  down  the  Master 39 

—The  Walk  Home 56 

—A  Night  at  Pete  Jones's 66 

— Ominous  Remarks  of  Mr.  Jones 74 

-The  Struggle  in  the  Dark 77 

—Has  God  Forgotten  Shocky  ? 81 

—The  Devil  of  Silence 85 

—Miss  Martha  Hawkins 92 

—The  Hardshell  Preacher. 101 

—A  Struggle  for  the  Mastery 109 

-  A  Crisis  with  Bud 115 

—The  Church  of  the  Best  Licks 121 

-The  Church  Militant 126 

-A  Council  of  War 132 

-Odds  and  Ends 137 

—Face  to  Face 141 

—God  Remembers  Shocky 145 

—Miss  Nancy  Sawyer. 15J 

—Pancakes 156 

—A  Charitable  Institution 162 

-The  Good  Samaritan  170 

-Bud  Wooing 173 

—A  Letter  and  its  Consequences 178 

—A  Loss  and  a  Gam 181 

-The  Flight 184 

—The  Trial...  191 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER       XXX.—'1  Brother  Sodom  " , 202 

CHAPTER      XXXI.— The  Trial  Concluded 206 

CHAPTER     XXXII.  -After  the  Battle , 217 

CHAPTER  XXXIII.— Into  the  Light 221 

CHAPTER  XXXIV.—"  How  it  Came  Out  "...  . .  .224 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

BY    FRANK    BEARD. 

Standing  Guard  over  Himself.    (  Page  ) (Frontispiece) 

First  Acquaintance  with  Flat  Creek.     (  Page  ) 10 

Old  Jack  Means,  the  School  Trustee.    (  Page  ) 13 

Mirandy  Means 27 

" '  Git  a  Plenty  while  you're  a  GittinY  says  I  •' 29 

Hank  Banta's  Improved  Plunge-bath.    (  Page  ) ,  36 

Squire  Hawkins 44 

Jeems  Phillips 48 

"  Next."     (  Page. ) 54 

Hannah.    (  Page ) 58 

"You're  a  purty  Gal.  a'n't  you?    You  air!"    (Page") 62 

Pete  Jones.    (  Page  ) 68 

Bull 75 

Shocky 82 

Dr.  Small  and  Granny  Sanders.    (  Page  ) 89 

Miss  Martha  Hawkins 93 

"We're  all  Selfish  akordin'  to  my  Tell."    (  Page  ) 97 

"Come,  Bnck-ah !  " 106 

Fire  and  Brimstone 113 

Bud 117 

The  Church  of  the  Best  Licks 124 

"Come  on!"  cried  Bud ...129 

The  Roan  Colt's  Best  Licks.    (  Page  ) 150 

Miss  Nancy  Sawyer .154 

Potato  on  One  Side 165 

"  God  ha'n't  Forgot  us,  Mother !  " 168 

Bud  Wooing 175 

Hannah  with  a  White,  White  Face.    (  Page  ) 183 

Walter  Johnson....  .......  204 


THE  HOOSIEE  SCHOOL-MASTER, 


CHAPTER   I. 

A   PRIVATE    LESSON    FROM   A   BULL-DOG. 

ANT  to  be  a  school-master,  do  you  ?  You  ? 
Well,  what  would  you  do  in  Flat  Crick 
decstrick,  Td  like  to  know  ?  Why,  the  boys  have 
driv  off  the  last  two,  and  licked  the  one  afcre 
them  like  blazes.  You  might  teach  a  summer 
school,  when  nothin'  but  children  come.  But  I  'low  it  takes 
a  right  smart  man  to  be  school-master  hi  Flat  Crick  in  the 
winter.  They'd  pitch  you  out  of  doors,  sonny,  neck  and  heels, 
afore  Christmas." 

The  young  man,  who  had  walked  ten  miles  to  get  the  school 
in  this  district,  and  who  had  been  mentally  reviewing  his  learn- 
ing at  every  step  he  took,  trembling  lest  the  committee  should 
find  that  he  did  not  know  enough,  was  not  a  little  taken  aback 
at  this  greeting  from  "  old  Jack  Means,"  who  was  the  first 
trustee  that  he  lighted  on.  The  impression  made  by  these 
ominous  remarks  was  emphasized  by  the  glances  which  he  re- 
ceived from  Jack  Means'  two  sons.  The  older  one  eyed  him 
11 


12  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER, 

from  the  top  of  his  brawny  shoulders  with  that  amiable  look 
which  a  big  dog  turns  on  a  little  one  before  shaking  him. 
Ralph  Hartsook  had  never  thought  of  being  measured  by  the 
standard  of  muscle.  This  notion  of  beating  education  into  young 
savages  hi  spite  of  themselves,  dashed  his  ardor. 

He  had  walked  right  to  where  Jack  Means  was  at  work  shaving 
shingles  in  his  own  front  yard.  While  Mr.  Means  was  making 
the  speech  which  we  have  set  down  above,  and  punctuating  it 
with  expectorations,  a  large  brindle  bull-dog  had  been  sniffing 
at  Ralph's  heels,  and  a  girl  in  a  new  linsey-woolsey  dress,  stand- 
ing by  the  door,  had  nearly  giggled  her  head  off  at  the  delight- 
ful prospect  of  seeing  a  new  school-teacher  eaten  up  by  the 
ferocious  brute. 

Between  the  disheartening  words  of  the  old  man,  the  immense 
muscles  of  the  young  man  who  was  to  be  his  rebellious  pupil, 
the  jaws  of  the  ugly  bull-dog,  end  the  heartless  giggle  of  the 
girl,  Ralph  had  a  delightful  sense  of  having  precipitated  himself 
into  a  den  of  wild  beasts.  Faint  with  weariness  and  discourage- 
ment, and  shivering  with  fear,  he  sat  down  on  a  wheelbarrow. 

"  You,  Bull ! "  said  the  old  man  to  the  dog,  which  was  showing 
more  and  more  a  disposition  to  make  a  meal  of  the  incipient 
pedagogue,  "you,  Bull!  git  aout,  you  pup!"  The  dog  walked 
sullenly  off,  but  not  until  he  had  given  Ralph  a  look  full  of 
promise  of  what  he  meant  to  do  when  he  got  a  good  chance. 
Ralph  wished  himself  back  in  the  village  of  Lewisburg,  whence 
he  had  come. 

"  You  see,"  continued  Mr.  Means,  spitting  in  a  meditative  sort 
of  a  way,  "you  see,  we  a'n't  none  of  your  saft  sort  in  these 
diggins.  It  takes  a  man  to  boss  this  deestrick.  Howsumdever,  ef 
you  think  you  kin  trust  your  hide  in  Flat  Crick  school-house 


OLD  JACK  MEANS,   THE  SCHOOL  TRUSTEE. 


A    PRIVATE    LESSON    FROM    A    BULL-DOG.  15 

I  ha'n't  got  no  'bjection.  But  ef  you  git  licked  don't  come  on  us. 
Flat  Crick  don't  pay  no  'nsurance,  you  bet !  Any  other  trustees  ? 
Wai,  yes.  But  as  I  pay  the  most  taxes,  t'othcrs  jist  let  me  run 
the  thing.  You  can  begin  right  off  a  Monday.  They  a'n't  been 
no  other  applications.  You  see  it  takes  some  grit  to  apply  for 
this  school.  The  last  master  had  a  black  eye  for  a  month.  But, 
as  I  said,  you  can  jibt  roll  up  and  wade  in.  I  'low  you've  got 
pluck,  may  be,  and  that  goes  for  a  heap  sight  more'n  sinnoo  with 
boys.  Walk  in,  and  stay  over  Sunday  with  me.  You'll  hev  to 
board  roun',  and  I  guess  you  better  begin  here." 

Ralph  did  not  go  in,  but  sat  out  on  the  wheelbarrow,  watch- 
ing the  old  man  shave  shingles,  while  the  boys  split  the  blocks 
and  chopped  wood.  Bull  smelled  of  the  new-comer  again  in  an 
ugly  way,  and  got  a  good  kick  from  the  older  son  for  his  pains. 
But  out  of  one  of  his  red  eyes  the  dog  warned  the  young  school- 
master that  he  should  yet  suffer  for  all  kicks  received  on  his 
account, 

"  Ef  Bull  once  takes  a  holt,  heaven  and  yarth  can't  make  him 
let  go,"  said  the  older  son  to  Ralph,  by  way  of  comfort. 

It  was  well  for  Ralph  that  he  began  to  "board  round"  by 
stopping  at  Mr.  Means's.  Ralph  felt  that  Flat  Creek  was  \vhat  he 
needed.  He  had  lived  a  bookish  life.  But  here  was  his  lesson 
in  the  art  of  managing  people.  For  he  who  can  manage  the 
untamed  and  strapping  youths  of  a  winter  school  hi  Hoopole 
County  has  gone  far  toward  learning  one  of  the  hardest  of  les- 
sons. And  twenty-five  years  ago,  in  Ralph's  time,  things  were 
worse  than  they  are  now. 

The  older  son  of  Mr.  Means  was  called  Bud  Means.  What 
his  real  name  was  Ralph  could  not  find  out,  for  in  many  of  these 
families  the  nickname  of  "Bud"  given  to  the  oldest  boy,  and 


16  THE    HOOSIEB    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

that  of  "Sis"  which  is  the  birthright  of  the  oldest  girl,  com- 
pletely bury  the  proper  Christian  name.  Ralph  was  a  general. 
He  saw  his  first  strategic  point,  which  was  to  capture  Bud 
Means. 

After  supper  the  boys  began  to  get  ready  for  something.  Bull 
stuck  up  his  ears  in  a  dignified  way,  and  the  three  or  four 
yellow  curs  who  were  Bull's  satellites  yelped  delightedly  and 
discordantly. 

"Bill,"  said  Bud  Means  to  his  brother,  "ax  the  master  ef 
he'd  like  to  hunt  coons.  I'd  like  to  take  the  starch  out  the 
stuck-up  fellow." 

"  'Nough  said,"  was  Bill's  reply. 

"You  durn't  do  it,"  said  Bud. 

"  I  don't  take  no  sech  a  dare,"  returned  Bill,  and  walked  down 
to  the  gate,  on  which  Ralph  stood  watching  the  stars  come  out, 
and  wishing  ho  had  never  seen  Flat  Creek. 

"  I  say,  mister,"  began  Bill,  "  mister,  they's  a  coon  what's  been 
a  eatin'  our  chickens  lately,  and  we're  goin'  to  try  ketch  the  var- 
mint. You  wouldn't  like  to  take  a  coon  hunt  nor  nothin', 
would  you?" 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Ralph,  "  there's  nothing  I  should  like  bstter, 
if  I  could  only  be  sure  Bull  wouldn't  mistake  me  for  the  coon." 

And  so,  as  a  matter  of  policy,  Ralph  dragged  his  tired  legs  eight 
or  ten  miles,  on  hill  and  in  hollow,  after  Bud,  and  Bill,  and  Bull, 
and  the  coon.  But  the  raccoon  climbed  a  tree.  The  boys  got 
into  a  quarrel  about  whose  business  it  was  to  have  brought  the 
ax,  and  who  was  to  blame  that  the  tree  could  not  be  felled. 
Now,  if  there  was  anything  Ralph's  muscles  were  good  for,  it 
was  to  climb.  So,  asking  Bud  to  give  him  a  start,  he  soon 
reached  the  limb  above  the  one  on  which  the  raccoon  was.  Ralph 


A    PRIVATE     LESSON    FROM    A    BULL-DOG.  17 

did  not  know  how  Ugly  a  customer  a  raccoon  can  be,  and  so  got 
credit  for  more  courage  than  he  had.  With  much  peril  to  his 
legs  from  the  raccoon's  teeth,  he  succeeded  in  shaking  the  poor 
creature  off  among  the  yelping  brutes  and  yelling  boys.  Ralph 
could  not  help  sympathizing  with  the  hunted  animal,  which  sold 
its  life  as  dearly  as  possible,  giving  the  dogs  many  a  scratch  and 
bite.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  like  the  raccoon,  precipitated 
into  the  midst  of  a  party  of  dogs  who  would  rejoice  in  worry- 
ing Ms  life  out,  as  Bull  and  his  crowd  were  destroying  the  poor 
raccoon.  When  Bull  at  last  seized  the  raccoon  and  put  an  end 
to  it,  Ralph  could  not  but  admire  the  decided  way  in  which  he 
did  it,  calling  to  mind  Bud's  comment :  "  Ef  Bull  once  takes 
a  holt,  heaven  and  yarth  can't  make  him  let  go." 

But  as  they  walked  home,  Bud  carrying  the  raccoon  by  the 
tail,  Ralph  felt  that  his  hunt  had  not  been  in  vain.  He  fancied 
that  even  red-eyed  Bull,  walking  uncomfortably  close  to  his 
heels,  respected  him  more  since  he  had  climbed  that  tree 

"  Purty  peart  kind  of  a  master,"  remarked  the  old  man  to  Bud 
after  Ralph  had  gone  to  bed.  "  Guess  you  better  be  a  little  easy 
on  him.  Hey  ?  " 

But  Bud  deigned  no  reply.  Perhaps  because  he  knew  that 
Ralph  heard  the  conversation  through  the  thin  partition. 

Ralph  woke  delighted  to  find  it  raining.  He  did  not  want 
to  hunt  or  fish  on  Sunday,  and  this  steady  rain  would  enable 
him  to  make  friends  with  Bud.  I  do  not  know  how  he  got 
started,  but  after  breakfast  he  began  to  tell  stories.  Out  of  all 
the  books  he  had  ever  read  he  told  story  after  story.  And 
"  old  man  Means,"  and  "  old  Miss  Means,"  and  Bud  Means,  and 
Bill  Means,  and  Sis  Means,  listened  with  great  eyes  while  he 
told  of  Sinbad's  adventures,  of  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea,  of 


18  THE    HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Robinson  Crusoe,  of  Captain  Gulliver's  experiences  in  Liliput, 
and  of  Baron  Munchausen's  exploits. 

Ralph  had  caught  his  fish.  The  hungry  minds  of  these  back- 
woods people,  sick  and  dying  of  tlieir  own  commonplace,  were 
refreshed  with  the  new  life  that  came  to  their  imaginations  hi 
these  stories.  For  there  was  but  one  book  hi  the  Means  library, 
and  that,  a  well-thumbed  copy  of  Captain  Riley's  Narrative,  had 
long  since  lost  all  freshness. 

"  I'll  be  dog-on'd,"  said  Bill  emphatically,  "  ef  I  hadn't  ruther 
hear  the  master  tell  them  whoppin'  yarns,  than  to  go  to  a  circus 
the  best  day  I  ever  seed  ! "  Bill  could  pay  no  higher  compliment. 

"What  Ralph  wanted  was  to  make  a  friend  of  Bud.  It's  a 
nice  thing  to  have  the  seventy -four-gun  ship  on  your  own  side, 
and  the  more  Hartsook  admired  the  knotted  muscles  of  Bud 
Means,  the  more  he  desired  to  attach  him  to  himself.  So,  when- 
ever he  struck  out  a  peculiarly  brilliant  passage,  he  anxiously 
watched  Bud's  eye.  But  the  young  Philistine  kept  his  own 
counsel.  He  listened  but  said  nothing,  and  the  eyes  under  his 
shaggy  brow  gave  no  sign.  Ralph  could  not  tell  whether  those, 
eyes  were  deep  and  inscrutable,  or  only  stolid.  Perhaps  a  little 
of  both.  When  Monday  morning  came  Ralph  was  nervous.  He 
walked  to  school  with  Bud. 

"  I  guess  you're  a  little  skeered  by  what  the  old  man  said, 
a'n't  you?" 

Ralph  was  about  to  deny  it,  but  on  reflection  concluded  that 
it  was  always  best  to  speak  the  truth.  He  said  that  Mr.  Means's 
description  of  the  school  had  made  him  feel  a  little  down- 
hearted. 

"What  will  you  do  with  the  tough  boys?  You  a'n't  no 
match  for  'em.'*  And  Ralph  felt  Bud's  eyes  not  only  measur- 


A    PRIVATE    LESSON    FllOM    A.    BULL-DOG.  19 

ing  his  muscles,  but  scrutinizing  his  countenance.  He  only 
answered : 

"I  don't  know." 

"What  would  you  do  with  me,  for  instance?"  and  Bud 
stretched  himself  up  as  if  to  shake  out  the  reserve  power  coiled 
up  in  his  great  muscles. 

"I  shan't  have  any  trouble  with  you." 

"  Why,  I'm  the  worst  chap  of  all  I  thrashed  the  last  master 
myself." 

And  again  the  eyes  of  Bud  Means  looked  out  sharply  from 
his  shadowing  brows  to  see  the  effect  of  this  speech  on  the 
slender  young  man. 

"  You  won't  thrash  me,  though,"  said  Ralph. 

"Pshaw!  I  'low  I  could  whip  you  hi  an  inch  of  your  life 
with  my  left  hand  and  never  half  try,"  said  young  Means  with 
a  threatening  sneer. 

"I  know  that  as  well  as  you  do." 

"Well,  a' n't  you  afraid  of  me  tlien?"  and  again  he  looked 
side  wise  at  Ralph. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Ralph,  wondering  at  his  own  courage. 

They  walked  on  in  silence  a  minute.  Bud  was  turning  the 
matter  over. 

"  Why  a' n't  you  afraid  of  me  ?  "  he  said  presently. 

"  Because  you  and  I  are  going  to  be  friends." 

"And  what  about  t' others?" 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  all  the  other  boys  put  together." 

"You  a'n't!    The  mischief!    How's  that?" 

"  Well,  I'm  not  afraid  of  them  because  you  and  I  are  going 
to  be  friends,  and  you  can  whip  all  of  them  together.  You'll 
do  the  fighting  and  I'll  do  the  teaching." 


20  THE     HOOSIEB    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

The  diplomatic  Bud  only  chuckled  a  little  at  this;  whether 
he  assented  to  the  alliance  or  not  Ralph  could  not  tell. 

When  Ralph  looked  round  on  the  faces  of  the  scholars— the 
little  faces  full  of  mischief  and  curiosity,  the  big  faces  full  of 
an  expression  which  was  not  further  removed  than  second- 
cousin  from  contempt — when  young  Hartsook  looked  into  these 
faces,  his  heart  palpitated  with  stage-fright.  There  is  no  audi- 
ence so  hard  to  face  as  one  of  school  children,  as  many  a  man 
has  found  to  his  cost.  Perhaps  it  is  that  no  conventional 
restraint  can  keep  down  their  laughter  when  you  do  or  say 
anything  ridiculous. 

Hartsook's  first  day  was  hurried  and  unsatisfactory.  He  was 
not  master  of  himself,  and  consequently  not  master  of  any- 
body else.  "When  evening  came  there  were  symptoms  of  insub- 
ordination through  the  whole  school.  Poor  Ralph  was  sick  at 
heart.  He  felt  that  if  there  had  ever  been  the  shadow  of  an 
alliance  between  himself  and  Bud,  it  was  all  "off"  now.  It 
seemed  to  Hartsook  that  even  Bull  had  lost  his  respect  for  the 
teacher.  Half  that  night  the  young  man  lay  awake.  At  last 
comfort  came  to  him.  A  reminiscence  of  the  death  of  the  rac- 
coon flashed  en  him  like  a  vision.  He  remembered  that  quiet 
and  annihilating  bite  which  Bull  gave.  .  He  remembered  Bud's 
certificate,  that  "  Ef  Bull  once  takes  a  holt,  heaven  and  yarth 
can't  make  him  let  go.''  He  thought  that  what  Flat  Creek 
needed  was  a  bull-dog.  He  would  be  a  bull-dog,  quiet  but  in- 
vincible. He  would  take  hold  in  such  a  way  that  nothing 
should  make  him  let  go.  And  then  he  went  to  sleep. 

In  the  morning  Ralph  got  out  of  bed  slowly.  He  put  his 
clothes  on  slowly.  He  pulled  on  his  boots  in  a  bull-dog  mood. 
He  tried  to  move  as  he  thought  Bull  would  move  if  he  were  a 


A     PRIVATE     LESSOX     FKOM    A    BULL-DOG.  21 

man.  He  ale  with  deliberation,  and  looked  everybody  in  the 
eyes  with  a  manner  that  made  Bud  watch  him  curiously.  He 
found  himself  continually  comparing  himself  with  Bull.  He 
found  Bull  possessing  a  strange  fascination  for  him.  He  walked 
to  school  alone,  the  rest  having  gone  on  before.  He  entered 
the  school-room  preserving  a  cool  and  dogged  manner.  He 
saw  in  the  eyes  of  the  boys  that  there  was  mischief  brewing. 
He  did  not  dare  sit  down  in  his  chair  for  fear  of  a  pin. 

Everybody  looked  solemn.  Ralph  lifted  the  lid  of  his  desk. 
"Bow-wow!  wow-wow!"  It  was  the  voice  of  an  imprisoned 
puppy,  and  the  school  giggled  and  then  roared.  Then  every- 
thing was  quiet. 

The  scholars  expected  an  outburst  of  wrath  from  the  teacher. 
For  they  had  come  to  regard  the  whole  world  as  divided  into 
two  classes,  the  teacher  on  the  one  side  representing  lawful  au- 
thority, and  the  pupils  on  the  other  in  a  state  of  chronic  rebek 
lion.  To  play  a  trick  on  the  master  was  an  evidence  of  spirit ; 
to  "  lick "  the  master  was  to  be  the  crowned  hero  of  Flat  Creek 
district.  Such  a  hero  was  Bud  Mear,s,  and  Bill,  who  had  less 
muscle,  saw  a  chance  to  distinguish  himself  on  a  teacher  of  slen- 
der frame.  Hence  the  puppy  in  the  desk. 

Ralph  Hartsook  grew  red  in  the  face  when  he  saw  the 
puppy.  But  the,  cool,  repressed,  bull-dog  mood  in  which  he 
had  kept  himself  saved  him.  He  lifted  the  dog  into  his  arms 
and  stroked  him  until  the  laughter  subsided.  Then,  in  a  solemn 
and  set  way,  he  began: 

"  I  am  sorry,"  and  he  looked  round  the  room  with  a  steady, 
hard  eye — everybody  felt  that  there  was  a  conflict  coming — "  I 
am  sorry  that  any  scholar  in  this  school  could  be  so  mean"- 
the  word  was  uttered  with  a  sharp  emphasis,  and  all   the  big 


22  THE    BOOSTER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

boys  felt  sure  that  there  would  be  a  fight  with  Bill  Means, 
and  perhaps  with  Bud — "could  be  so  mean — as  to — shut  up 
his  brother  in  such  a  place  as  that!" 

There  was  a  long,  derisive  laugh.  The  wit  was  indifferent, 
but  by  one  stroke  Ralph  had  carried  the  whole  school  to  his 
side.  By  the  significant  glances  of  the  boys,  Hartsook  detected 
the  perpetrator  of  the  joke,  and  with  the  hard  and  dogged  look 
in  his  eyes,  with  just  such  a  look  as  Bull  would  give  a  puppy, 
but  with  the  utmost  suavity  in  his  voice,  he  said: 

"  William  Means,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  put  this  dog  out 
of  doors?" 


A     SPELL     COMING. 


CHAPTER    II. 

A     SPELL     COMING. 
'^ff  J>HERE  was  a  moment  of  utter  stillness.     But  the 

\™sl--» 

magnetism  of  Ralph's  eye  was  too  much  for  Bill 
Means.  The  request  was  so  polite,  the  master's  look 
was  so  innocent  and  yet  so  determined.  Bill  often 
wondered  afterward  that  he  had  not  "fit"  rather 
than  obeyed  the  request.  But  somehow  he  put  the  dog  out. 
He  was  partly  surprised,  partly  inveigled,  partly  awed  into 
doing  just  what  lie  had  not  intended  to  do.  In  the  week  that 
followed,  Bill  had  to  fight  half  a  dozen  boys  for  calling  him 
"Puppy  Means."  Bill  said  he  wished  he'd  a  licked  the  master 
on  the  spot.  'Twoulcl  a  saved  five  fights  out  of  the  six. 

And  all  that  clay  and  the  next,  the  bull-dog  in  the  master's 
eye  was  a  terror  to  evil-doers.  At  the  close  of  school  on  the 
second  day  Bud  was  heard  to  give  it  as  his  opinion  that  "the 
master  wouldn't  be  much  in  a  tussle,  but  he  had  a  heap  of 
thunder  and  lightning  in  him."  Did  he  inflict  corporal  punish- 
ment? inquires  some  philanthropic  friend.  "Would  you  inflict 
corporal  punishment  if  you  were  tiger-trainer  in  Van  Am- 
burgh's  happy  family?  If  you  had  been  among  the  human 
bears  on  Flat  Creek  you  would  have  used  the  rod  also.  But 
poor  Ralph  could  never  satisfy  his  constituency. 


24  THE    HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"Don't  believe  he'll  do,"  was  Mr.  Pete  Jones's  comment  to 
Mr.  Means.  "Don't  thrash  enough.  Boys  won't  larn  'less  you 
thrash  'em,  says  I.  Leastways,  mine  won't.  Lay  it  on  good, 
is  what  I  says  to  a  master.  Lay  it  on  good.  Don't  do  no  harm. 
Lickin'  and  larnin'  goes  together.  No  lickin',  no  larnin',  says 
I.  Lickin'  and  larnin',  lickin'  and  larnin',  is  the  good  ole  way." 

And  Mr.  Jones,  like  some  wiser  people,  was  the  more  pleased 
with  his  formula  that  it  had  an  alliterative  sound.  Neverthe- 
less, Ralph  was  master  from  this  time  until  the  spelling-school 
came.  If  only  it  had  not  been  for  that  spelling-school !  Many 
and  many  a  time  after  the  night  of  the  fatal  spelling-school 
Ralph  used  to  say :  "  If  only  it  had  not  been  for  that  spelling- 
school!" 

There  had  to  be  a  spelling-school.  Not  only  for  the  sake  of 
my  story,  which  would  not  have  been  worth  the  telling  if  the 
spelling-school  had  not  taken  place,  but  because  Flat  Creek  dis- 
trict had  to  have  a  spelling-school.  It  is  the  only  public  literary 
exercise  known  in  Hoopole  County.  It  takes  the  place  of 
lyceum  lecture  and  debating  club.  Sis  Means,  or,  as  she  wished 
now  to  be  called,  Mirandy  Means,  expressed  herself  most  posi- 
tively in  favor  of  it.  She  said  that  she  'lowed  the  folks  in 
that  district  couldn't  in  no  wise  do  without  it.  But  it  was 
rather  to  its  social  than  its  intellectual  benefits  that  she  referred. 
For  all  the  spelling-schools  ever  seen  could  not  enable  her  to 
stand  anywhere  but  at  the  foot  of  the  class.  There  is  one 
branch  diligently  taught  in  a  backwoods  school.  The  public 
niind  seems  impressed  with  the  difficulties  of  English  or- 
thography, and  there  is  a  solemn  conviction  that  the  chief  end 
of  man  is  to  learn  to  spell.  '"Know  Webster's  Elementary' 
came  down  from  heaven,"  would  be  the  backwoods  version  of 


A     SPELL     COMING.  45 

the  Greek  proverb,  but  that,  unfortunately  for  the  Greeks, 
their  fame  has  not  reached  so  far.  It  often  happens  that  the 
pupil  does  not  know  the  meaning  of  a  single  word  in  the  les- 
son. That  is  of  no  consequence.  What  do  you  want  to  know 
the  meaning  of  a  word  for?  Words  were  made  to  be  spelled, 
and  men  were  created  that  they  might  spell  them.  Hence  the 
necessity  for  sending  a  pupil  through  the  spelling-book  five 
times  before  you  allow  him  to  begin  to  read,  or  indeed  to  do 
anything  else.  Hence  the  necessity  for  those  long  spelling-classes 
at  the  close  of  each  forenoon  and  afternoon  session  of  the 
school,  to  stand  at  the  head  of  which  is  the  cherished  ambition 
of  every  scholar.  Hence,  too,  the  necessity  for  devoting  the 
whole  of  the  afternoon  session  of  each  Friday  to  a  "Spelling 
Match."  In  fact,  spelling  is  the  "national  game"  in  Hoopol* 
County.  Base-ball  and  croquet  matches  are  as  unknown  afc 
Olympian  chariot-races.  Spelling  and  "  shucking  "  are  the  onlv 
public  competitions. 

So  that  the  fatal  spelling-school  had  to  be  appointed  for  the 
Wednesday  of  the  second  week  of  the  session,  just  when  Ralph 
felt  himself  master  of  the  situation.  Not  that  he  was  without 
his  annoyances.  One  of  Ralph's  troubles  in  the  week  before 
the  spelling  school  was  that  he  was  loved.  The  other  that 
he  was  hated.  And  while  the  time  between  the  appointing  of 
the  spelling  tournament  and  the  actual  occurrence  of  that  re< 
markable  event  is  engaged  in  elapsing,  let  me  narrate  two  in- 
cidents that  made  it  for  Ralph  a  trying  tune. 


26  THE    HOOSIEK    SCHOOL-MASTER. 


CHAPTER    III. 

MIRANDY,    HANK,    AND    SHOCKY. 

[ 
IRANDY  had  nothing  but  contempt  for  the 

new  master  until  he  developed  the  bull-dog  in 
his  character.  Mirandy  fell  in.  love  with  the 
bull-dog.  Like  many  other  girls  of  her  class,  she 
was  greatly  enamored  with  the  "  subjection  of 
women,"  and  she  stood  ready  to  fall  in  love  with  any  man  strong 
enough  to  be  her  master.  Much  has  been  said  of  the  strong- 
minded  women.  I  offer  this  psychological  remark  as  a  con- 
tribution to  the  natural  history  of  the  weak-minded  women. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  that  very  second  day  on  which  Ralph 
had  achieved  his  first  victory  over  the  school,  and  in  which 
Mirandy  had  been  seized  with  her  desperate  passion  for  him, 
that  she  told  him  about  it.  Not  in  words.  We  do  not  cllow 
fluxt  in  the  most  civilized  countries,  and  it  would  not  be  toler- 
ated in  Hoopole  County.  But  Mirandy  told  the  master  the 
fact  that  she  was  in  love  with  him  none  the  less  that  no  word 
passed  her  lips.  She  walked  by  him  from  school.  She  cast  at 
him  what  are  commonly  called  sheep's-eyes.  Ralph  thought 
them  more  like  calf's-eyes.  She  changed  the  whole  tone  of 
her  voice.  She  whined  ordinarily.  Now  she  whimpered.  And 
so  by  ogling  him,  by  blushing  at  him,  by  tittering  at  him,  by 
giggling  at  him,  by  snickering  at  him,  by  simpering  at  him,  by 


MIRANDT,    HANK,    AND    SIIOCKY. 


27 


making  herself  tenfold  more  a  fool  even  than  nature  had  made 
her,  she  managed  to  convey  to  the  dismayed  soul  of  the  young 
teacher  the  frightful  intelligence  that  he  was  loved  by  the 


MIBANDY  MEANS. 


richest,  the  ugliest,  the    silliest,   the   coarsest,  and  the  most  en- 
tirely contemptible  girl  in  Flat  Creek  district. 

Ralph  sat  by  the  fire  the  next  morning  trying  to  read  a  few 
minutes  before  school-tune,  while  the  boys  were  doing  the 
chores,  and  the  bound  girl  was  milking  the  cows,  with  no  one 
in  the  room  but  the  old  woman.  She  was  generally  as  silent 
as  Bud,  but  now  she  seemed  for  some  unaccountable  reason 
disposed  to  talk.  She  had  sat  down  on  the  broad  hearth  to 


28  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

hare  her  usual  morning  smoke;  the  poplar  table,  adorned  by 
no  cloth,  sat  hi  the  floor;  the  unwashed  blue  tea-cups  sat  hi 
the  unwashed  blue  saucers;  the  unwashed  blue  plates  kept 
company  with  the  begrimed  blue  pitcher.  The  duty  skillets 
by  the  fire  were  kept  in  countenance  by  the  dirtier  pots,  and 
the  ashes  were  drifted  and  strewn  over  the  hearth-stones  in  a 
most  picturesque  way. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  old  woman,  knocking  the  residuum  from 
her  cob-pipe,  and  chafing  some  dry  leaf  between  her  withered 
hands  preparatory  to  filling  it  again,  "you  see,  Mr.  Hartsook, 
my  ole  man's  purty  well  along  in  the  world.  He's  got  a  right 
smart  lot  of  this  world's  plunder,  one  way  and  another."  And 
while  she  stuffed  the  tobacco  in  her  pipe  Ralph  wondered  why 
she  should  mention  it  to  him.  "  You  see  we  moved  in  here 
nigh  upon  twenty-five  year  ago.  'Twas  when  my  Jack,  him  as 
died  afore  Bud  was  born,  was  a  baby.  Bucl'll  be  twenty-one 
the  fifth  of  next  June." 

Here  Mrs.  Means  stopped  to  rake  a  live  coal  out  of  the  fire 
with  her  skinny  finger,  and  then  to  carry  it  in  her  skinny 
palm  to  the  bowl — or  to  the  Twle — of  her  cob-pipe.  When  she 
got  the  smoke  agoing  she  proceeded : 

"  You  see  this  ere  bottom  land  was  all  Congress  land  in  them 
there  days,  and  it  sold  for  a  dollar  and  a  quarter,  and  I  says 
to  my  ole  man,  '  Jack,'  says  I,  *  Jack,  do  you  git  a  plenty 
while  you're  a  gittin'.  Git  a  plenty  while  you're  a  gittin','  says 
I,  '  fer  'twon't  never  be  no  cheaper'n  'tis  now,'  and  it  ha'n't 
been,  I  knowed  'twouldn't,"  and  Mrs.  Means  took  the  pipe 
from  her  mouth  to  indulge  in  a  good  chuckle  at  the  thought  of 
her  financial  shrewdness.  "  *  Git  a  plenty  while  you're  a  gittin',' 
says  I.  I  could  see,  you  know,  they  was  a  powerful  sight  of 


MIRANDY,    HANK,    AND    SIIOCKT. 


29 


money  in  Congress  land.  That's  what  made  me  say,  *  Git  a 
plenty  while  you're  a  gittinV  And  Jack,  he's  wuth  lots  and 
gobs  of  money,  all  made  out  of  Congress  land.  Jack  didn't 
git  rich  by  hard  work.  Bless  you,  no !  Not  him.  That  a'n't 


"GIT   A    PLENTY  WHILE  YOUE'E  A  GITTIN',"   SAYS  I. 

his  way.  Hard  work  a'n't,  you  know.  'Twas  that  air  six  hun- 
dred dollars  he  got  along  of  me,  all  salted  down  into  Flat  Crick 
bottoms  at  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  acre,  and  'twas  my  sayin' 
4  Git  a  plenty  while  you're  a  gittin' '  as  done  it."  And  here  the 
old  ogre  laughed,  or  grinned  horribly,  at  Ralph,  showing  her 
few  straggling,  discolored  teeth. 


30  THE     IIOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Then  she  got  up  and  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  her  pipe, 
and  laid  the  pipe  away  and  walked  round  in  front  of  Ralph. 
After  adjusting  the  "  chunks  "  so  that  the  fire  would  burn,  she 
turned  her  yellow  face  toward  Ralph,  and  scanning  him  closely 
came  out  with  the  climax  of  her  speech  in  the  remark :  "  You 
s.ee  as  how,  Mr.  Hartsook,  the  man  what  gits  my  Mirandy'H 
do  well.  Flat  Crick  land's  worth  nigh  upon  a  hundred  a  acre." 

This  gentle  hint  came  near  knocking  Ralph  down.  Had  Flat 
Creek  land  been  worth  a  hundred  times  a  hundred  dollars  an 
acre,  and  had  he  owned  five  hundred  tunes  Means's  five  hundred 
acres,  he  would  have  given  it  all  just  at  that  moment  to  have 
annihilated  the  whole  tribe  of  Meanses.  Except  Bud.  Bud  was 
a  giant,  but  a  good-natured  one.  He  thought  he  would  except 
Bud  from  the  general  destruction.  As  for  the  rest,  he  mentally 
pictured  to  himself  the  pleasure  of  attending  their  funerals. 
There  was  one  thought,  however,  between  him  and  despair. 
He  felt  confident  that  the  cordiality,  the  intensity,  and  the  per- 
sistency of  his  dislike  of  Sis  Means  were  such  that  he  should 
never  inherit  a  foot  of  the  Flat  Creek  bottoms. 

But  what  about  Bud?  What  if  he  joined  the  conspiracy  to 
marry  him  to  this  weak-eyed,  weak-headed  wood-nymph,  or 
backwoods  nymph? 

If  Ralph  felt  it  a  misfortune  to  be  loved  by  Mirandy  Means, 
he  found  himself  almost  equally  unfortunate  in  having  incurred 
the  hatred  of  the  meanest  boy  in  school.  "  Hank "  Banta,  low- 
browed, smirky,  and  crafty,  was  the  first  sufferer  by  Ralph's 
determination  to  use  corporal  punishment,  and  so  Henry  Banta, 
who  was  a  compound  of  deceit  and  resentment,  never  lost  an 
opportunity  to  annoy  the  young  school-master,  who  was  obliged 
to  live  perpetually  on  his  guard  against  his  tricks. 


MIRANDY,    HANK,    AND    SHCK'KY.  3J 

One  morning,  as  Ralph  walked  toward  the  school-house,  he 
met  little  Shocky.  What  the  boy's  first  name  or  last  name 
was  the  teacher  did  not  know.  •  Ho  had  given  his  name  as 
Shocky,  and  all  the  teacher  knew  was  that  he  was  commonly 
called  Shocky,  that  he  was  an  orphan,  that  he  lived  with  a 
family  named  Pearson  over  in  Rocky  Hollow,  and  that  he  was 
the  most  faithful  and  afiectionato  child  in  the  school.  On  this 
morning  that  I  speak  of,  Ralph  had  walked  toward  the  school 
early  to  avoid  the  company  of  Mirandy.  But  not  caring  to 
sustain  his  dignity  longer  than  was  necessary,  he  loitered  along 
the  road,  admiring  the  trunks  of  the  maples,  and  picking  up  a 
beech-nut  now  and  then.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  go  on 
toward  the  school,  he  caught  sight  of  little  Shocky  running 
swiftly  toward  him,  but  looking  from  side  to  side,  as  if  afraid 
of  being  seen. 

"  Well,  Shocky,  what  is  it  ?  "  and  Ralph  put  his  hand  kindly 
on  the  great  bushy  head  of  white  hair  from  which  came 
Shocky's  nickname.  Shocky  had  to  pant  a  minute. 

"Why,  Mr.  Hartsook,"  he  gasped,  scratching  his  head, 
"  they's  a  pond  down  underneath  the  school-house,"  and  here 
Shocky's  breath  gave  out  entirely  for  a  minute. 

"  Yes,  Shocky,  I  know  that.  What  about  it  ?  The  trustees 
haven't  come  to  fill  it  up,  have  they?" 

"Oh!  no,  sir;  but  Hank  Banta,  you  know — "  and  Shocky 
took  another  breathing  spell,  standing  as  close  to  Ralph  as  he 
could,  for  poor  Shocky  got  all  his  sunshine  from  the  master's 
presence. 

"  Has  Henry  fallen  in  and  got  a  ducking,  Shocky  ? " 

"Oh!    no,  sir;   he  wants  to  git  you  in,  you  see." 

"  Well,  I  won't  go  in,  though,  Shocky." 


32  THE    HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"But,  you  see,  he's  been  and  gone  and  pulled  back  the 
board  that  you  have  to  step  on  to  git  ahind  your  desk;  he's 
been  and  gone  and  pulled  back  the  board  so  as  you  can't  help 
a-tippin'  it  up,  and  a-sowsin'  right  in  ef  you  step  there." 

"  And  so  you  came  to  tell  me."  There  was  a  huskiness  hi 
Ralph's  voice.  He  had,  then,  one  friend  in  Flat  Creek  district 
— poor  little  Shocky.  He  put  his  arm  around  Shocky  just  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  told  him  to  hasten  across  to  the  other  road, 
so  as  to  come  back  to  the  school-house  in  a  direction  at  right 
angles  to  the  master's  approach.  But  the  caution  was  not 
needed.  Shocky  had  taken  care  to  leave  in  that  way,  and  was 
altogether  too  cunning  to  be  seen  coming  down  the  road  with 
Mr.  Hartsook.  But  after  he  got  over  the  fence  to  go  through 
the  "sugar  camp"  (or  sugar  orcJiard,  as  they  say  at  the  East), 
he  stopped  and  turned  back  once  or  twice,  just  to  catch  one 
more  smile  from  Ralph.  And  then  he  hied  away  through  the 
tall  trees  a  very  happy  boy,  kicking  and  plowing  the  brown 
leaves  before  him  in  his  perfect  delight,  saying  over  and  over 
again,  "  How  he  looked  at  me  1  how  he  did  look ! "  And  when 
Ralph  came  up  to  the  school-house  door,  there  was  Shocky 
countering  along  from  the  other  direction,  throwing  bits  of 
limestone  at  fence-rails,  and  smiling  still  clear  down  to  his 
shoes  at-  thought  of  the  master's  kind  words. 

"  What  a  quare  boy  Shocky  is ! "  remarked  Betsey  Short,  with 
a  giggle.  "He  just  likes  to  wander  'round  alone.  I  see  him 
a-comin'  out  of  the  sugar  camp  just  now.  He's  been  in  there  half 
an  hour."  And  Betsey  giggled  again.  For  Betsey  Short  could 
giggle  on  slighter  provocation  than  any  other  girl  on  Flat  Creek. 

When  Ralph  Hartsook,  with  the  quiet,  dogged  tread  that  he 
was  cultivating,  walked  into  the  school-room,  he  took  great  care 


MIRANDY,     HANK,     AND 

not  to  seem  to  see  the  trap  set  for  him.  But  he  carelessly 
stepped  over  the  board  that  had  been  so  nicely  adjusted.  The 
boys  who  were  Hank's  confidants  in  the  plot  were  very  busy 
over  their  slates,  and  took  pains  not  to  show  their  disappointment. 

The  morning  session  wore  on  without  incident.  Ralph  several 
tunes  caught  two  people  looking  at  him.  One  was  Mirandy. 
Her  weak  and  watery  eyes  stole  loving  glances  over  the  top  of 
her  spelling-book,  which  she  would  not  study.  Her  looks  always 
made  Ralph's  spirits  sink  to  forty  below  zero,  and  congeal. 

But  on  one  of  the  backless  little  benches  that  sat  in  the 
middle  of  the  school-room  was  little  Shocky,  who  also  cast 
many  love-glances  at  the  young  master,  glances  as  grateful  iff 
his  heart  as  Mirandy 's  ogling — he  was  tempted  to  call  it  ogring 
— was  hateful. 

"Look  at  Shocky,"  giggled  Betsey  Short,  behind  her  slate. 
"  He  looks  as  if  he  was  a-goin'  to  eat  the  master  up,  body  and 
soul." 

It  is  safe  to  conjecture  that  Betsey  had  never  studied  "  Drew 
on  the  Immateriality  and  Immortality  of  the  Human  Soul,"  or 
die  would  not  have  spoken  of  Ralph's  as  if  it  were  something 
to  be  swallowed  like  an  oyster. 

And  so  the  forenoon  wore  on  as  usual,  and  those  who  had 
laid  tho  trap  had  forgotten  it  themselves.  The  morning  session 
was  drawing  to  a  close.  The  fire  in  the  great,  old  fire-place 
had  burnt  low.  The  flames,  which  seemed  to  Shocky  to  be 
angels,  had  disappeared,  and  now  the  bright  coals,  which  had 
played  the  part  of  men  and  women  and  houses  in  Shocky's 
fancy,  had  taken  on  a  white  and  downy  covering  of  ashes,  and 
the  great  half -burnt  back-log  lay  there  smoldering  like  a  giant 
asleep  in  a  snow-drift,  Shocky  longed  to  wake  him  up. 
2* 


84  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

As  for  Henry  Banta,  he  was  too  much  bothered  to  get  the 
answer  to  a  "  sum  "  he  was  doing,  to  remember  anything  about 
his  trap.  In  fact,  he  had  quite  forgotten  that  half  an  hour  ago 
in  the  all-absorbing  employment  of  drawing  ugly  pictures  on 
his  slate  and  coaxing  Betsey  Short  to  giggle  by  showing  them 
slily  across  the  school-room.  Once  or  twice  Ralph  had  been 
attracted  to  Betsey's  extraordinary  fits  of  giggling,  and  had  come 
so  near  to  catching  Hank  that  the  boy  thought  it  best  not  to  run 
any  farther  risk  of  the  beech  switches,  four  or  five  feet  long,  laid 
up  behind  the  master  in  sight  of  the  school  as  a  prophylactic. 
Hence  his  application  just  now  to  his  sum  in  long  division,  and 
hence  his  puzzled  look,  for,  idler  that  he  was,  his  "sums"  did 
not  solve  themselves  easily.  As  usual  in  such  cases,  he  came  up 
in  front  of  the  master's  desk  to  have  the  difficulty  explained. 
He  had  to  wait  a  minute  until  Ralph  got  through  with  showing 
Betsey  Short,  whe  had  been  seized  with  a  studying  fit,  and  who 
could  hardly  give  any  attention  to  the  teacher's  explanations,  she 
did  want  to  giggle  PO  much  !  Not  at  anj^thmg  in  particular,  but 
just  at  things  in  general. 

While  Ralph  was  "doing"  Betsey's  sum  for  her,  he  was  solv- 
ing a  much  more  difficult  question.  A  plan  had  flashed  upon 
him,  but  the  punishment  seemed  a  severe  one,  He  gave  it  up 
once  or  twice,  but  he  remembered  how  turbulerl  tho  Flat  Creek 
elements  were;  and  had  he  not  inly  resolved  to  be  as  unrelent- 
ing as  a  bull-dog?  He  fortified  himself  by  recalling  again 
the  oft-remembered  remark  of  Bud,  "  Ef  Bull  wunst  takes  a  holt, 
heaven  and  yarth  can't  make  him  let  go."  And  so  he  resolved 
to  give  Hank  and  the  whole  school  one  good  lesson. 

"  Just  step  round  behind  me,  Henry,  and  you  can  so*  how  I 
do  this,"  said  Ralph. 


37 


Hank  was  entirely  off  his  guard,  and  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  slate  on  the  teacher's  desk,  he  sidled  round  upon  the  broad 
loose  board,  misplaced  by  his  own  hand,  and  in  an  instant  the 
other  end  of  the  board  rose  up  hi  the  middle  of  the  school-room, 
almost  striking  Shocky  in  the  face,  while  Henry  Banta  brought 
up  or  down  in  the  ice-cold  water  beneath  the  school-house. 

"Why,  Henry!"  cried  Ealph,  jumping  to  his  feet  with  well- 
feigned  surprise.  "  How  did  this  happen  ?  "  and  he  helped  the 
dripping  fellow  out  and  seated  him  by  the  fire. 

Betsey  Short  giggled. 

Shocky  was  so  tickled  that  he  could  hardly  keep  his  seat. 

The  boys  who  were  hi  the  plot  looked  very  serious  indeed. 
And  a  little  silly. 

Ralph  made  some  remarks  by  way  of  improving  the  occasion. 
He  spoke  strongly  of  the  utter  meanness  of  the  one  who  could 
play  so  heartless  a  trick  on  a  schoolmate.  He  said  that  it  was 
as  much  thieving  to  get  your  fun  at  the  expense  of  another  as  to 
steal  his  money.  And  while  he  talked  all  eyes  were  turned  on 
Hank.  All  except  the  eyes  of  Mirandy  Means.  They  looked 
simperingly  at  Ralph.  All  the  rest  looked  at  Hank.  The  fire 
had  made  his  face  very  red.  Shocky  noticed  that.  Betsey  Short 
noticed  it,  and  giggled.  The  master  wound  up  with  an  appro- 
priate quotation  from  Scripture.  He  said  that  the  person  who 
displaced  that  board  had  better  not  be  encouraged  by  the  suc- 
cess— he  said  success  with  a  curious  emphasis — of  the  present 
experiment  to  attempt  another  trick  of  the  kind.  For  it  was 
set  down  hi  the  Bible  that  if  a  man  dug  a  pit  for  the  feet  of 
another  he  would  be  very  likely  to  fall  in  it  himself.  Which 
made  all  the  pupils  look  solemn.  Except  Betsey  Short.  She 
giggled.  And  Shocky  wanted  to.  And  Mirandy  cast  an  ex- 


00  THE    HOOSIEB     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

piring  look  at  Ralph.  And  if  the  teacher  was  not  love-sick,  he 
certainly  was  sick  of  Mirandy's  love. 

When  school  was  "let  out"  Ralph  gave  Hank  every  caution 
tnat  he  could  about  taking  cold,  and  even  lent  him  his  overcoat, 
very  much  against  Hank's  will.  For  Hank  had  obstinately  re- 
fused to  go  home  before  the  scliool  was  dismissed. 

Then  the  master  walked  out  in  a  quiet  and  subdued  way  to 
spend  the  noon  recess  in  the  woods,  while  Shocky  watched  his 
retreating  footsteps  with  loving  admiration.  And  the  pupils  not 
in  the  secret  canvassed  the  question  of  who  moved  the  board. 
Bill  Means  said  he'd  bet  Hank  did  it,  which  set  Betsey  Short 
off  in  an  uncontrollable  giggle.  And  Shocky  listened  innocently. 

But  that  night  Bud  said  slily,  "  Thunder  and  lightning !  what 
a  manager  you  air,  Mr.  Hartsook ! "  To  which  Ralph  returned 
no  reply  except  a  friendly  smile.  Muscle  paid  tribute  to  brains 
that  time. 

But  Ralph  had  no  time  for  exultation.  For  just  here  came  tne 
spelling-school. 


SPELLING    DOWN    THE    MASTER.  39 


CHAPTER   IV. 

SPELLING    DOWN    THE  MASTER. 

'LOW,"  said  Mrs.  Means,  as  she  stuffed  the  to- 
bacco into  her  cob  pipe  after  supper  on  that 
eventful  Wednesday  evening,  "  I  'low  they'll  appint 
the  Squire  to  gin  out  the  words  to-night.  They  mos' 
always  do,  you  see,  kase  he's  the  peartest  ole  man 
in  this  deestrick;  and  I  'low  some  of  the  young  fellers  would 
have  to  git  up  and  dust  ef  they  would  keep  up  to  him.  And 
he  uses  sech  remarkable  smart  words.  He  speaks  so  polite,  too. 
But  laws!  don't  I  remember  when  he  was  poarer  nor  Job's 
turkey  ?  Twenty  year  ago,  when  he  come  to  these  'ere  diggins, 
that  air  Squire  Hawkins  was  a  poar  Yankee  school-master,  that 
said  '  pail '  instid  of  bucket,  and  that  called  a  cow  a  *  caow,' 
and  that  couldn't  tell  to  save  his  gizzard  what  we  meant  by 
'low  and  by  right  smart.  But  he's  larnt  our  ways  now,  an'  he's 
jest  as  civilized  as  the  rest  of  us.  You  would-n  know  he'd  ever 
been  a  Yankee.  He  didn't  stay  poar  long.  Not  he.  He  jest  mar- 
ried a  right  rich  girl !  He  !  he ! "  and  the  old  woman  grinned 
at  Ralph,  and  then  at  Mirandy,  and  then  at  the  rest,  until 
Ralph  shuddered.  Nothing  was  so  frightful  to  him  as  to  be 
fawned  on  and  grinned  at  by  this  old  ogre,  whose  few  lone- 


40  THE    HOOS1ER    SCHOOL-MASTER 

some,  blackish  teeth  seemed  ready  to  devour  him.  "  He  didn't 
stay  poar,  you  bet  a  hoss!"  and  with  this  the  coal  was  de- 
posited on  the  pipe,  and  the  lips  began  to  crack  like  parch- 
ment as  each  puff  of  smoke  escaped.  "  He  married  rich,  you 
see,"  and  here  another  significant  look  at  the  young  master, 
and  another  fond  look  at  Mirandy,  as  she  puffed  away  reflec- 
tively. "  His  wife  hadn't  no  book-larnin'.  She'd  been  through 
the  spellin'-book  wunst,  and  had  got  as  fur  as  '  asperity '  on  it 
a  second  time.  But  she  couldn't  read  a  word  when  she  was 
married,  and  never  could.  She  warn't  overly  smart.  She 
hadn't  hardly  got  the  sense  the  law  allows.  But  schools  was 
skase  in  them  air  days,  and,  besides,  book-larnin'  don't  do  no 
good  to  a  woman.  Makes  her  stuck  up.  I  never  knowed  but 
one  gal  in  my  life  as  had  ciphered  into  fractions,  and  she  was 
so  dog-on  stuck  up  that  she  turned  up  her  nose  one  night  at  &. 
apple-peelin'  bekase  I  tuck  a  sheet  off  the  bed  to  splice  out  the 
table-cloth,  wrhich  was  ruther  short.  And  the  sheet  was  mos' 
clean,  too.  Had-n  been  slep  on  more'n  wunst  or  twicet.  But 
I  was  goin  fer  to  say  that  when  Squire  Hawkins  married  Vir- 
ginny  Gray  he  got  a  heap  o'  money,  or,  what's  the  same  thing 
mostly,  a  heap  o'  good  land.  And  that's  better'n  book-larnin', 
says  I.  Ef  a  girl  had  gone  clean  through  all  eddication,  and 
got  to  the  rule  of  three  itself,  that  would-n  buy  a  feather-bed. 
Squire  Hawkins  jest  put  eddication  agin  the  gal's  farm,  and 
traded  even,  an'  ef  ary  one  of  'em  got  swindled,  I  never  heerd 
no  complaints." 

And  here  she  looked  at  Ralph  in  triumph,  her  hard  face 
splintering  into  the  hideous  semblance  of  a  smile.  And  Mi- 
randy  cast  a  blushing,  gushing,  ell-imploring,  and  all-confiding 
look  on  the  young  master. 


SPELLING    DOWN    THE    MASTER.  41 

"I  say,  ole  woman,"  broke  in  old  Jack,  "I  say,  wot  is  all 
this  ere  spoutin'  about  the  Square  for  ? "  and  old  Jack,  hav- 
ing bit  off  an  ounce  of  "pigtail,"  returned  the  plug  to  his 
pocket. 

As  for  Ralph,  he  wanted  to  die.  He  had  a  guilty  feeling 
that  this  speech  of  the  old  lady's  had  somehow  committed  him 
beyond  recall  to  Mirandy.  He  did  not  see  visions  of  breach- 
of-promise  suits.  But  he  trembled  at  the  thought  of  an  aveng- 
ing big  brother. 

"  Hanner,  you  kin  come  along,  too,  cf  you're  a  mind,  when 
you  git  the  dishes  washed,"  said  Mrs.  Means  to  the  bound  girl, 
as  she  shut  and  latched  the  back  door.  The  Means  family 
had  built  a  new  house  in  front  of  the  old  one,  as  a  sort  of  ad- 
vertisement of  bettered  circumstances,  an  eruption  of  shoddy 
feeling ;  but  when  the  new  building  was  completed,  they  found 
themselves  unable  to  occupy  it  for  anything  else  than  a  lumber- 
room,  and  so,  except  a  parlor  which  Mirandy  had  made  an 
effort  to  furnish  a  little  (in  hope  of  the  blissful  time  when 
somebody  should  "  set  up "  with  her  of  evenings),  the  new 
building  was  almost  unoccupied,  and  the  family  went  in  and 
out  through  the  back  door,  which,  indeed,  was  the  front  door 
also,  for,  according  to  a  curious  custom,  the  "front"  of  the 
house  was  placed  toward  the  south,  though  £he  "big  road" 
(Hoosier  for  highway)  ran  along  the  north-west  side,  or,  rather, 
past  the  north-west  corner  of  it. 

When  the  old  woman  had  spoken  thus  to  Hannah  and  had 
latched  the  door,  she  muttered,  "  That  gal  don't  never  show 
no  gratitude  fer  favors ;"  to  which  Bud  rejoined  that  he  didn't 
think  she  had  no  great  sight  to  be  pertickler  thankful  for.  To 
which  Mrs.  Means  made  no  reply,  thinking  it  best,  perhaps,  not 


42  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

to  wake  up  her  dutiful  son  on  so  interesting  a  theme  as  hex 
treatment  of  Hannah.  Ralph  felt  glad  that  he  was  this  even- 
ing to  go  to  another  boarding  place.  He  should  not  hear  the 
rest  of  the  controversy. 

Ralph  walked  to  the  school-house  with  Bill.  They  were 
friends  again.  For  when  Hank  Banta's  ducking  and  his  clogged 
obstinacy  in  sitting  in  his  wet  clothes  had  brought  on  a  seri- 
ous fever,  Ralph  had  called  together  the  big  boys,  and  had 
said:  "We  must  take  care  of  one  another,  boys.  Who  will 
volunteer  to  take  turns  sitting  up  with  Henry?"  He  put  his 
own  name  down,  and  all  the  rest  followed. 

"  William  Means  and  myself  will  sit  up  to-night,"  said  Ralph. 
And  poor  Bill  had  been  from  that  moment  the  teacher's 
friend.  He  was  chosen  to  be  Ralph's  companion.  He  was 
Puppy  Means  no  longer !  Hank  could  not  be  conquered  by 
kindness,  and  the  teacher  was  made  to  feel  the  bitterness  of 
his  resentment  long  after,  as  we  shall  find.  But  Bill  Means 
was  for  the  time  entirely  placated,  and  he  and  Ralph  went  to 
spelling-school  together. 

Every  family  furnished  a  candle.  There  were  yellow  dips  and 
white  dips,  burning,  smoking,  and  flaring.  There  was  laughing, 
and  talking,  and  giggling,  and  simpering,  and  ogling,  and  flut- 
ing, and  courting.  What  a  dress  party  is  to  Fifth  avenue,  a 
spelling-school  is  to  Hoopole  County.  It  is  an  occasion  which 
is  metaphorically  inscribed  with  this  legend,  "  Choose  your  part- 
ners." Spelling  is  only  a  blind  in  Hoopole  County,  as  is  danc- 
ing on  Fifth  Avenue.  But  as  there  are  some  in  society  who 
love  dancing  for  its  own  sake,  so  in  Flat  Creek  district  there 
were  those  who  loved  spelling  for  its  own  sake,  and  who, 
smelling  the  battle  from  afar,  had  come  to  try  their  skill  in 


SPELLING    DOWN    THE    MASTER.  43 

this  tournament,  hoping  to  freshen  the  laurels  they  had  won  hi 
their  school-clays. 

"  I  'low,"  said  Mr.  Means,  speaking  as  the  principal  school 
trustee,  "  I  'low  our  friend  the  Square  is  jest  the  man  to  boss 
this  ere  consarn  to-night.  Ef  nobody  objects,  I'll  appint  him. 
Come,  Square,  don't  be  bashful.  Walk  up  to  the  trough,  fod- 
der or  no  fodder,  as  the  man  said  to  his  donkey." 

There  was  a  general  giggle  at  this,  and  many  of  the  young 
swains  took  occasion  to  nudge  the  girls  alongside  them,  osten- 
sibly for  the  purpose  of  making  them  see  the  joke,  but  really 
for  the  pure  pleasure  of  nudging.  The  Greeks  figured  Cupid 
as  naked,  probably  because  he  wears  so  many  disguises  that 
they  could  not  select  a  costume  for  him. 

The  Squire  came  to  the  front.  Ralph  made  an  inventory 
of  the  agglomeration  which  bore  the  name  of  Squire  Hawkins, 
as  follows: 

1.  A  swallow-tail  coat  of  indefinite   age,  worn  only  on  state 
occasions  when   its  owner  was  called  to  figure    in    his    public 
capacity.     Either  the  Squire  had  grown  too.  large  or  the  coat 
too  small. 

2.  A  pair  of  black   gloves,  the  most   pn*nomenal,  abnormal, 
and   unexpected    apparition  conceivable  hi   Flat   Creek  district, 
where  the  preachers  wore  no  coats  in  the  summer,  and  where  a 
black  glove  was  never  seen  except  on  the  hands  of  the  Squire- 

3.  A  wig  of  that  dirty,  waxy  color  so  common  to  wigs.     This  *~ 
one   showed    a   continual    inclination   to    slip    off    the   owner's 
smooth,  bald  pate,  and  the  Squire   had  frequently  to  adjust  it. 
As  his  hair  had  been   red,  the  wig  did   not  accord   with  his 
face,  and  the  hair  ungrayed   was  sadly  discordant  with  a  face 
driveled  by  age, 


44 


THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER 


4.  A  semicircular  row  of  whiskers  hedging  the  edge  of  the 
jaw  and  chin.  These  were  dyed  a  frightful  dead  black,  such 
as  no  natural  hair  or  beard  ever  had.  At  the  roots  there  was 


SQUIRE   HAWKINS. 

a  quarter  of  an  inch  of  white,  giving  the  whiskers  the  appear, 
ance  of  having  been  stuck  on. 

5.  A  pair  of   spectacles   "with  tortoise-shell  rim."     Wont  to 
slip  off. 

6.  A  glass  eye,  purchased  of  a  peddler,  and  differing  hi  color 
from  its  natural  mate,  perpetually  getting  out  of  focus  by  turn- 
ing in  or  out. 


SPELLING    DOWN    THE    MASTER.  45 

7.  A  set  of  false  teeth,  badly  fitted,  and  given  to  bobbing  up 
and  down. 

8.  The   Squire  proper,  to    whom   these  patches  were  loosely 
attached. 

'  It  is  an  old  story  that  a  boy  wrote  home  to  his  father  beg- 
ging him  to  come  West,  because  "  mighty  mean  men  got  in 
office  out  here."  But  Ralph  concluded  that  some  Yankees  had 
taught  school  in  Hoopole  County  who  would  not  have  held  a 
high  place  in  the  educational  institutions  of  Massachusetts. 
Hawkins  had  some  New  England  idioms,  but  they  were  well 
overlaid  by  a  Western  pronunciation. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  began,  shoving  up  his  spectacles, 
and  sucking  his  lips  over  his  white  teeth  to  keep  them  in  place, 
"  ladies  and  gentlemen,  young  men  and  maidens,  raley  I'm 
obleeged  to  Mr.  Means  fer  this  honor,"  and  the  Squire  took 
both  hands  and  turned  the  top  of  his  head  round  several 
inches.  Then  he  adjusted  his  spectacles.  Whether  he  was 
obliged  to  Mr.  Means  for  the  honor  of  being  compared  to  a 
donkey,  was  not  clear.  "  I  feel  hi  the  inmost  compartments 
of  my  animal  spirits  a  most  happifying  sense  of  the  success 
and  futility  of  all  my  endeavors  to  sarve  the  people  of  Flat 
Crick  deestrick,  and  the  people  of  Tomkins  township,  in  my 
weak  way  and  manner."  This  burst  of  eloquence  was  deliv- 
ered with  a  constrained  air  and  an  apparent  sense  of  a  danger 
that  he,  Squire  Hawkins,  might  fall  to  pieces  in  his  weak 
way  and  manner,  and  of  the  success  and  futility  (especially 
the  latter)  of  all  attempts  at  reconstruction.  For  by  this  time 
the  ghastly  pupil  of  the  left  eye,  which  was  black,  was  look- 
ing away  round  to  the  left,  while  the  little  blue  one  on  the 
right  twinkled  cheerfully  toward  the  front  The  front  teeth 


46  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

would  drop  down  so  that  the  Squire's  mouth  was  kept  nearly 
closed,  and  his  words  whistled  through. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  could  be  grandiloquent  on  this  interesting  oc. 
casion,"  twisting  his  scalp  round,  "but  ruley  I  must  forego 
any  such  exertions.  It  is  spelling  you  want.  Spelling  is  the 
corner-stone,  the  grand,  underlying  subterfuge  of  a  good  eddi- 
cation.  I  put  the  spcllin'-book  prepared  by  the  great  Daniel 
Webster  alongside  the  Bible.  I  do,  raley.  I  think  I  may  put 
it  ahead  of  the  Bible.  For  if  it  wurnt  fer  spcllin' -books  and 
sich  occasions  as  these,  where  would  the  Bible  be?  I  should 
like  to  know.  The  man  who  got  up,  who  compounded  this 
little  work  of  inextricable  valoo  was  a  benufactor  to  the  whole 
human  race  or  any  other."  Here  the  spectacles  fell  off.  The 
Squire  replaced  them  in  some  confusion,  gave  the  top  of  his 
head  another  twist,  and  felt  of  his  glass  eye,  while  poor  Shocky 
stared  in  .wonder,  and  Botscy  Sliort  rolled  from  side  to  side  at 
the  point  of  death  from  the  effort  to  suppress  her  giggle.  Mrs. 
Means  and  the  other  old  ladies  looked  the  applause  they  could 
not  speak. 

"  I  appint  Larkin  Lanham  and  Jeems  Buchanan  fer  captings," 
said  the  Squire.  And  the  two  young  men  thus  named  took  a 
stick  and  tossed  it  from  hand  to  hand  to  decide  which  should 
have  the  "  first  cliicc."  One  tossed  the  stick  to  the  other,  who 
held  it  fast  just  where  he  happened  to  catch  it.  Then  the  first 
placed  his  hand  above  the  second,  and  so  the  hands  were  alter- 
nately changed  to  the  top.  The  one  who  held  the  stick  lact 
without  room  for  the  other  to  take  hold  had  gained  the  lot. 
This  was  tried  three  times.  As  Larkin  held  the  stick  twice 
out  of  three  times,  he  had  the  choice.  He  hesitated  a  moment. 
Everybody  looked  toward  tall  Jim  Phillips.  But  Larkin  was 


SPELLING     DOWN    THE     MASTER.  47 

fond  of  a  venture  on  unknown  seas,  and  so  he  said,  "  I  take  the 
master,"  while  a  buzz  of  surprise  ran  round  the  room,  and  the  cap- 
tain of  the  other  side,  as  if  afraid  his  opponent  would  withdraw 
the  choice,  retorted  quickly,  and  with  a  little  smack  of  exultation 
and  defiance  in  his  voice :  "  And  /  take  Jccms  Phillips." 

And  soon  all  present,  except  a  few  of  the  old  folks,  found 
themselves  ranged  in  opposing  hosts,  the  poor  spellers  lagging 
in,  with  what  grace  they  could,  at  the  foot  of  the  two  divis- 
ions. The  Squire  opened  his  spelling-book  and  began  to  give 
out  the  words  to  the  two  captains,  who  stood  up  and  spelled 
against  each  other.  It  was  not  long  until  Larkin  spelled 
"  really  "  with  one  I,  and  had  to  sit  down  in  confusion,  while 
a  murmur  of  satisfaction  ran  through  the  ranks  of  the  oppos- 
ing forces.  His  own  side  bit  their  lips.  The  slender  figure  of 
the  young  teacher  took  the  place  of  the  fallen  leader,  and  the 
excitement  made  the  house  very  quiet.  Ralph  dreaded  the  loss 
of  influence  he  would  suffer  if  he  should  be  easily  spelled 
down.  And  at  the  moment  of  rising  he  saw  in  the  darkest 
corner  the  figure  of  a  well-dressed  young  man  sitting  in  the 
shadow.  It  made  him  tremble.  Why  should  his  evil  genius 
haunt  him  ?  But  by  a  strong  effort  he  turned  his  attention 
away  from  Dr.  Small,  and  listened  carefully  to  the  words  which 
the  Squire  did  not  pronounce  very  distinctly,  spelling  them  with 
extreme  deliberation.  This  gave  him  an  air  of  hesitation  which 
disappointed  tkose  on  his  own  side.  They  wanted  him  to  spell 
with  a  dashing  assurance.  But  he  did  not  begin  a  word  until 
he  had  mentally  felt  his  way  through  it.  After  ten  minutes  of 
spelling  hard  words  Jeems  Buchanan,  the  captain  on  the  other 
side,  spelled  "  atrocious  "  with  an  *  instead  of  a  c,  and  subsided, 
his  first  choice,  Jeems  Phillips,  coming  up  against  the  teacher. 


48  THE    HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

This  brought  the  excitement  to  fever-heat.  For  though  Ralph 
was  chosen  first,  it  was  entirely  on  trust,  and  most  of  the  com- 
pany were  disappointed.  The  champion  who  now  stood  up 
against  the  school-master  was  a  famous  speller. 

Jim  Phillips  was  a  tall,  lank,  stoop- 
shouldered  fellow,  who  had  never  distin- 
guished himself  in  any  other  pursuit  than 
spelling.  Except  in  this  one  art  of  spell- 
ing he  was  of  no  account.  He  could  not 
catch  well  or  bat  well  in  ball.  He  could 
not  throw  well  enough  to  make  his  mark 
in  that  famous  Western  game  of  bull-pen. 
He  did  not  succeed  well  in  any  study  but 
that  of  Webster's  Elementary.  But  in 
that  he  was — to  use  the  usual  Flat  Creek 
locution — in  that  he  was  "  a  hoss."  This 
genius  for  spelling  is  in  some  people  a 
sixth  sense,  a  matter  of  intuition.  Some 
spellers  are  born  and  not  made,  and  their 
facility  reminds  one  of  the  mathematical 
prodigies  that  crop  out  every  now  and 
then  to  bewilder  the  world.  Bud  Means, 
JEEMS  PHILLIPS.  foreseeing  that  Ralph  would  be  pitted 
against  Jim  Phillips,  had  warned  his  friend  that  Jim  could 
"  spell  like  thunder  and  lightning,"  and  that  it  "  took  a  powerful 
smart  speller "  to  beat  him,  for  he  knew  "  a  heap  of  spelling- 
book."  To  have  "  spelled  down  the  master"  is  next  thing  to  hav- 
ing whipped  the  biggest  bully  in  Hoopole  County,  and  Jim  had 
"  spelled  down  "  the  last  three  masters.  He  divided  the  hero-wor- 
ship of  the  district  with  Bud  Means. 


SPELLING    DOWN    THE    MASTER.  49 

For  half  an  hour  the  Squire  gave  out  hard  words.  What  a 
blessed  thing  our  crooked  orthography  is  !  Without  it  there  could 
be  no  spelling-schools.  As  Ralph  discovered  his  opponent's 
mettle  he  became  more  and  more  cautious.  He  was  now  satisfied 
that  Jim  would  eventually  beat  him.  The  fellow  evidently  knew 
more  about  the  spelling-book  than  old  Noah  Webster  himself.  As 
he  stood  there,  with  his  dull  face  and  long  sharp  nose,  his  hands 
behind  his  back,  and  his  voice  spelling  infallibly,  it  seemed  to  Hart- 
sook  that  his  superiority  must  lie  in  his  nose.  Ralph's  cautious- 
ness answered  a  double  purpose :  it  enabled  him  to  tread  surely, 
and  it  was  mistaken  by  Jim  for  weakness.  Phillips  was  now  con- 
fident that  he  should  carry  off  the  scalp  of  the  fourth  school-mas- 
ter before  the  evening  was  over.  He  spelled  eagerly,  confidently, 
brilliantly.  Stoop-shouldered  as  he  was,  he  began  to  straighten 
up.  In  the  minds  of  all  the  company  the  odds  were  in  his  favor. 
He  saw  this,  and  became  ambitious  to  distinguish  himself  by 
spelling  without  giving  the  matter  any  thought. 

Ralph  always  believed  that  he  would  have  been  speedily  de- 
feated by  Phillips  had  it  not  been  for  two  thoughts  which  braced 
him.  The  sinister  shadow  of  young  Dr.  Small  sitting  in  the  dark 
corner  by  the  water- bucket  nerved  him.  A  victory  over  Phillips 
was  a  defeat  to  one  who  wished  only  ill  to  the  young  school- 
master. The  other  thought  that  kept  his  pluck  alive  was  the 
recollection  of  Bull.  He  approached  a  word  as  Bull  approached 
the  raccoon.  He  did  not  take  holcl  until  he  was  sure  of  his  game. 
When  he  took  hold,  it  was  with  a  quiet  assurance  of  success.  As 
Ralph  spelled  in  this  dogged  way  for  half  an  hour  the  hardest 
words  the  Squire  could  find,  the  excitement  steadily  rose  in  all 
parts  of  the  house,  and  Ralph's  friends  even  ventured  to  whisper 

that  "  may  be  Jim  had  cotched  his  match  after  all ! >: 
3 


HO  THE    HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

• 

But  Phillips  never  doubted  of  his  success. 

"  Theodolite,"  said  the  Squire. 

"  T-h-e,  the,  o-d,  od,  theod,  o,  theodo,  1-y-t-e,  theodolite,"  spelled 
the  champion. 

"  Next,"  said  the  Squire,  nearly  losing  his  teeth  in  his  excitement 

Ralph  spelled  the  word  slowly  and  correctly,  and  the  conquered 
champion  sat  down  in  confusion.  The  excitement  was  so  great 
for  some  minutes  that  the  spelling  was  suspended.  Everybody  in 
the  house  had  shown  sympathy  with  one  or  the  other  of  the 
combatants,  except  the  silent  shadow  in  the  corner.  It  had  not 
moved  during  the  contest,  and  did  not  show  any  interest  now  in 
the  result. 

"  Gewhilliky  crickets !  Thunder  and  lightning !  Licked  him 
all  to  smash  ! "  said  Bud,  rubbing  his  hands  on  his  knees.  "  That 
beats  my  time  all  holler ! " 

And  Betsey  Short  giggled  until  her  tuck-comb  fell  out,  though 
she  was  on  the  defeated  side. 

Shocky  got  up  and  danced  with  pleasure. 

But  one  suffocating  look  from  the  aqueous  eyes  of  Mirandy  de- 
stroyed the  last  spark  of  Ralph's  pleasure  in  his  triumph,  and  sent 
that  awful  below-zero  feeling  all  through  him. 

"  He's  powerful  smart,  is  the  master,"  said  old  Jack  to  Mr.  Pete 
Jones.  "He'll  beat  the  whole  kit  and  tuck  of  'cm  afore  he's 
through.  I  know'd  he  was  smart.  That's  the  reason  I  tuck  him," 
proceeded  Mr.  Means. 

"  Yaas,  but  he  don't  lick  enough.  Not  nigh,"  answered  Pete 
Jones.  "  No  iickin',  no  larnin',  says  I." 

It  was  now  not  so  hard.  The  other  spellers  on  the  opposite 
side  went  down  quickly  under  the  hard  words  which  the  Squire 
gave  out.  The  master  had  mowed  down  all  but  a  few,  his  oppo- 


SPELLING    DOWX    THE     MASTER.  51 

nents  had  given  up  the  battle,  and  all  had  lost  their  keen  interest 
in  a  contest  to  which  there  could  be  but  one  conclusion,  for  there 
were  only  the  poor  spellers  left.  But  Ralph  Hartsook  ran  against 
3  stump  where  he  was  least  expecting  it.  It  was  the  Squire's 
custom,  when  one  of  the  smaller  scholars  or  poorer  spellers 
,rose  to  spell  against  the  master,  to  give  out  eight  or  ten  easy 
words  that  they  might  have  some  breathing  spell  before  being 
slaughtered,  and  then  to  give  a  poser  or  two  which  soon  settled 
them.  He  let  them  run  a  little,  as  a  cat  does  a  doomed  mouse. 
There  was  now  but  one  person  left  on  the  opposite  side,  and  as 
she  rose  in  her  blue  calico  dress,  Ralph  recognized  Hannah,  the 
bound  girl  at  old  Jack  Means's.  She  had  not  attended  school 
in  the  district,  and  had  never  spelled  in  spelling-school  before, 
and  was  chosen  last  as  an  uncertain  quantity.  The  Squire  began 
with  easy  words  of  two  syllables,  from  that  page  of  Webster,  so 
well  known  to  all  who  ever  thumbed  it,  as  "  Baker,"  from  the 
word  that  stands  at  the  top  of  the  page.  She  spelled  these 
words  in  an  absent  and  uninterested  manner.  As  everybody 
knew  that  she  would  have  to  go  down  as  soon  as  this  preliminary 
skirmishing  was  over,  everybody  began  to  get  ready  to  go  home, 
and  already  there  was  the  buzz  of  preparation.  Young  men  were 
timidly  asking  girls  if  "  they  could  see  them  safe  home,"  which 
is  the  approved  formula,  and  were  trembling  in  mortal  fear  of 
"  the  mitten."  Presently  the  Squire,  thinking  it  time  to  close  the 
contest,  pulled  his  scalp  forward,  adjusted  his  glass  eye,  which 
had  been  examining  his  nose  long  enough,  and  turned  over  the 
leaves  of  the  book  to  the  great  words  at  the  place  known  to 
spellers  as  "  Incomprehensibility,"  and  began  to  give  out  those 
"words  of  eight  syllables  with  the  accent  on  the  sixth."  List- 
less scholars  now  turned  round,  and  ceased  to  whisper  in  order 


52  THE     IIOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

to  be  in  at  the  master's  final  triumph.  But  to  their  surprise,  "  ole 
Miss  Meanses'  white  nigger,"  as  some  of  them  called  her,  in 
allusion  to  her  slavish  life,  spelled  these  great  words  with  as  per- 
fect ease  as  the  master.  Still,  not  doubting  the  result,  the  Squire 
turned  from  place  to  place  and  selected  all  the  hard  words  he 
could  find.  The  school  became  utterly  quiet,  the  excitement  was 
too  great  for  the  ordinary  buzz.  "Would  "  Meanses'  Hanner  "  beat 
the  master?  Beat  the  master  that  had  laid  out  Jim  Phillips? 
Everybody's  sympathy  was  now  turned  to  Hannah.  Ralph  no- 
ticed that  even  Shocky  had  deserted  him,  and  that  his  face  grew 
brilliant  every  time  Hannah  spelled  a  word.  In  fact,  Ralph  de- 
serted himself.  As  he  saw  the  fine,  timid  face  of  the  girl  so  long 
oppressed  flush  and  shine  with  interest,  as  he  looked  at  the  rather 
low  but  broad  and  intelligent  brow  and  the  fresh,  white  com- 
plexion, and  saw  the  rich,  womanly  nature  coming  to  the  surface 
under  the  influence  of  applause  and  sympathy,  he  did  not  want 
to  beat.  If  he  had  not  felt  that  a  victory  given  would  insult  her, 
he  would  have  missed  intentionally.  The  bull-dog,  the  stem, 
relentless  setting  of  the  will,  had  gone,  he  knew  not  whither. 
And  there  had  come  in  its  place,  as  he  looked  in  that  face,  a 
something  which  he  did  not  understand.  You  did  not,  gentle 
reader,  the  first  time  it  came  to  you. 

The  Squire  was  puzzled.  He  had  given  out  all  the  hard  words 
in  the  book.  He  again  pulled  the  top  of  his  head  forward.  Then 
he  wiped  his  spectacles  and  put  them  on.  Then  out  of  the  depths 
of  his  pocket  he  fished  up  a  list  of  words  just  coming  into  use  in 
those  days — words  not  in  the  spelling-book.  He  regarded  the 
paper  attentively  with  his  blue  right  eye.  His  black  left  eye 
meanwhile  fixed  itself  in  such  a  stare  on  Mirandy  Means  that  she 
shuddered  and  hid  her  eyes  in  her  red  silk  handkerchief. 


SPELLING    DOWN    THE    MASTER.  55 

"Daguerreotype,"  sniffled  the  Squire.    It  was  Ralph's  turn. 

"  D-a-u,  dau " 

"  Next." 

And  Hannah  spelled  it  right. 

Such  a  buzz  followed  that  Betsey  Short's  giggle  could  not  be 
heard,  but  Shocky  shouted,  "Hanner  beat!  my  Hanner  spelled 
down  the  master !  "  And  Ralph  went  over  and  congratulated  her. 

And  Dr.  Small  sat  perfectly  still  in  the  corner. 

And  then  the  Squire  called  them  to  order,  and  said :  "  As  our 
friend  Hanner  Thomson  is  the  only  one  left  on  her  side,  she  will 
have  to  spell  against  nearly  all  on  t'other  side.  I  shall,  therefore, 
take  the  libert}^  of  procrastinating  the  completion  of  this  interest- 
ing and  exacting  contest  until  to-morrow  evening.  I  hope  our 
friend  Planner  may  again  carry  off  the  cypress  crown  of  glory. 
There  is  nothing  better  for  us  than  heathful  and  kindly  simulation." 

Dr.  Small,  who  knew  the  road  to  practice,  escorted  Mirandy, 
and  Bud  went  home  with  somebody  else.  The  others  of  the 
Means  family  hurried  on,  while  Hannah,  the  champion,  stayed 
behind  a  minute  to  speak  to  Shocky.  Perhaps  it  was  because 
Rilph  saw  that  Hannah  must  go  alone  that  he  suddenly  remem- 
bered having  left  something  which  was  of  no  consequence,  and 
resolved  to  go  round  by  Mr.  Means's  and  get  it.  Another  of 
Cupid's  disguises. 


56  THE    HOOSIEB    SCHOOL-MASTER. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE      WALK      HOME. 

OU  expect  me  to  describe  that  walk.  You  have 
had  enough  of  the  Jack  Meanses  and  the  Squire 
Hawkinses,  and  the  Pete  Joneses,  and  the  rest.  You 
wish  me  to  tell  you  now  of  this  true-hearted  gh*l  and 
her  lover ;  of  how  the  silvery  moonbeams  came  down 
in  a  shower — to  use  Whittier's  favorite  metaphor — through  the 
maple  boughs,  flecking  the  frozen  ground  with  light  and  shadow. 
You  would  have  me  tell  of  the  evening  star,  not  yet  gone  dowc, 
which  shed  its  benediction  on  them.  But  I  shall  do  no  such 
thing.  For  the  moon  was  not  shining,  neither  did  the  stars  give 
their  light.  The  tall  black  trunks  of  the  maples  swayed  and 
shook  in  the  wind,  which  moaned  through  their  leafless  boughs. 
Novelists  always  make  lovers  walk  in  the  moonlight.  But  if  love 
is  not,  as  the  cynics  believe,  all  moonshine,  it  can  at  least  make  its 
own  light.  Moonlight  is  never  so  little  needed  or  heeded,  never 
so  much  of  an  impertinence,  as  in  a  love-scene.  It  was  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  first  hollow  beyond  the  school-house  that  Ralph 
overtook  the  timid  girl  walking  swiftly  through  the  dark.  He 
did  not  ask  permission  to  walk  with  her.  Love  does  not  go 
by  words,  and  there  are  times  when  conventionality  is  impos- 
sible. There  are  people  who  understand  one  another  at  onca. 


HANNAH. 


THE     WALK    HOME.  59 

When  one  Soul  meets  another,  it  is  not  by  pass-word,  nor  by  hail- 
ing sign,  nor  by  mysterious  grip,  that  they  recognize.  The 
subtlest  freemasonry  in  the  world  is  this  freemasonry  of  the 
spirit. 

Ralph  and  Hannah  knew  and  trusted.  Ralph  had  admired 
and  wondered  at  the  quiet  drudge.  But  it  was  when,  in  the 
unaccustomed  sunshine  of  praise,  she  spread  her  wings  a  little, 
that  he  loved  her.  He  had  seen  her  awake. 

You,  Miss  Amelia,  wish  me  to  repeat  all  their  love-talk.  I 
am  afraid  you'd  find  it  dull.  Love  can  pipe  through  any  kind 
of  a  reed.  Ralph  talked  love  to  Hannah  when  he  spoke  of  the 
weather,  of  the  crops,  of  the  spelling-school.  Weather,  crops, 
and  spelling-school — these  were  what  his  words  would  say  if 
reported.  But  below  all  these  commonplaces  there  vibrated 
something  else.  One  can  make  love  a  great  deal  better  when 
one  doesn't  speak  of  love.  Words  are  so  poor !  Tones  and 
modulations  are  better.  It  is  an  old  story  that  Whitefield  could 
make  an  audience  weep  by  his  way  of  pronouncing  the  word 
Mesopotamia.  A  lover  can  sound  the  whole  gamut  of  his  affec- 
tion in  saying  Good  morning.  The  solemncst  engagements 
ever  made  have  been  without  the  intervention  of  speech. 

And  you,  my  Gradgrind  friend,  you  think  mo  sentimental. 
Two  young  fools  they  were,  walking  so  slowly  though  the  night 
was  sharp,  dallying  under  the  trees,  and  dreaming  of  a  heaven 
they  could  not  have  realized  if  all  their  wishes  had  been  granted. 
Of  course  they  were  fools!  Either  they  were  fools  to  be  so 
happy,  or  else  some  other  people  are  fools  not  to  be.  After  all, 
dear  Gradgrind,  let  them  be.  There's  no  harm  in  it.  They'll 
get  trouble  enough  before  morning.  Let  them  enjoy  the  evening. 
I  am  not  sure  but  these  lovers  whom  we  write  down  fools  are  the 


60  THE    HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

only  wise  people  after  all.  Is  it  not  wise  to  be  happy?  Let 
them  alone. 

For  the  first  time  in  three  years,  for  the  first  time  since  she 
had  crossed  the  threshold  of  "  Old  Jack  Means  "  and  come  under 
the  domination  of  Mrs.  Old  Jack  Means,  Hannah  talked  cheer- 
fully, almost  gaily.  It  was  something  to  have  a  companion  to 
talk  to.  It  was  something  to  be  the  victor  even  in  a  spelling- 
match,  and  to  be  applauded  even  by  Flat  Creek.  And  so,  chat- 
ting earnestly  about  the  most  uninteresting  themes,  Ralph  cour- 
teously helped  Hannah  over  the  fence,  and  they  took  the  usual 
short-cut  through  the  "  blue-grass  pasture."  There  came  up  a 
little  shower,  hardly  more  than  a  sprinkle,  but  then  it  was  so 
nice  to  have  a  shower  just  as  they  reached  the  box-elder  tree 
by  the  spring !  It  was  so  thoughtful  in  Ralph  to  suggest  that  the 
shade  of  a  box-elder  is  dense,  and  that  Hannah  might  take  cold ! 
And  it  was  so  easy  for  Hannah  to  yield  to  the  suggestion.  Just 
as  though  she  had  not  milked  the  cows  in  the  open  lot  in  the 
worst  storms  of  the  last  three  years !  And  just  as  though  the 
house  were  not  within  a  stone's  throw !  Doubtless  it  was  not 
prudent  to  stop  there.  But  let  us  deal  gently  with  them.  Who 
would  not  stay  in  paradise  ten  minutes  longer,  even  though  it  did 
make  purgatory  the  hotter  afterward  ?  And  so  Hannah  stayed. 

"  Tell  me  your  circumstances,"  said  Ralph,  at  last.  "  I  am  sure 
I  can  help  you  in  something." 

"  No,  no !  you  can  not,"  and  Hannah's  face  was  clouded.  "  No 
one  can  help  me.  Only  time  and  God.  I  must  go,  Mr.  Hart- 
sook."  And  they  walked  on  to  the  front  gate  in  silence  and  in 
some  constraint.  But  still  in  happiness. 

As  they  came  to  the  gate,  Dr.  Small  pushed  past  them  in  his 
cool,  deliberate  way,  and  mounted  his  horse.  Ralph  bade  Hannah 


THE   WALK     HOME.  63 

good-night,  having  entirely  forgotten  the  errand  which  had 
been  his  excuse  to  himself  for  coming  out  of  his  way.  He 
hastened  to  his  new  home,  the  house  of  Mr.  Pete  Jones, 
the  same  who  believed  in  the  inseparableuess  of  "lickin'  and 
laniin'." 

"  You're  a  purty  gal,  a'n't  j^ou  ?  You're  a  purty  gal,  a'n't  you  ? 
You  air  !  Yes,  you  air!  !  "  and  Mrs.  Means  seemed  so  impressed 
with  Hannah's  prcttiness  that  she  choked  on  it,  and  could  get 
no  farther.  "  A  purty  gal !  you  !  Yes !  you  air  a  mighty  purty 
gal ! "  and  the  old  woman's  voice  rose  till  it  could  have  been 
heard  half  a  mile.  "  To  be  a  santerin'  along  the  big  road  after 
ten  o'clock  with  the  master !  Who  knows  whether  he's  a  fit  man 
fer  anybody  to  go  with  ?  Arter  all  I've  been  and  gone  and  done 
fer  you  !  That's  the  way  you  pay  me !  Disgrace  me  !  Yes,  I  say, 
disgrace  me !  You're  a  mean,  deceitful  thing.  Stuck  UD  bekase 
you  spelt  the  master  down.  Ketch  me  lettin'  you  go  to 
spellin'-school  to-morry  night!  Ketch  ME!  Yes,  ketch  ME, 
I  say ! " 

"  Looky  here,  marm,"  said  Bud,  "  it  stems  to  me  you're  a 
makin'  a  blamed  furss  about  nothin'.  Don't  yell  so's  they'll  hear 
you  three  or  four  mile.  You'll  have  everybody  'tween  here  and 
Clifty  waked  up."  For  Mrs.  Means  had  become  so  excited  over 
the  idea  of  being  caught  allowing  Hannah  to  go  to  spelling-school 
that  she  had  raised  her  last  "  Ketch  me ! "  to  a  perfect  whoop. 
"  That's  the  way  I'm  treated,"  whimpered  the  old  woman,  who 
knew  how  to  take  the  "  injured-innocence  "  dodge  as  well  as  any- 
body. "That's  the  way  I'm  treated.  You.allers  take  sides  with 
that  air  hussy  agin  your  own  flesh  and  blood.  You  don't  keer 
how  much  trouble  I  have.  Not  you.  Not  a  dog-on'd  bit.  I  may 
be  disgraced  by  that  air  ongrateful  critter,  and  you  set  right  here 


64  THE     HOOSIEK    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

in  my  own  house  and  sass  me  about  it.  A  purty  fellow  you  air  ! 
An'  me  a  delvin'  and  a  drudgin'  fer  you  all  my  born  days.  A 
purty  son,  a'n't  you?  " 

Bud  did  not  say  another  word.  He  sat  in  the  chimney-corner 
and  whistled  "  Dandy  Jim  from  Caroline."  His  diversion  had  pro- 
duced the  effect  he  sought.  For  while  his  tender-hearted  mother 
poured  her  broadside  into  his  iron-clad  feelings,  Hannah  had 
slipped  up  the  stairs  to  her  garret  bed-room,  and  when 
Mrs.  Means  turned  from  the  callous  Bud  to  finish  her  assault 
upon  the  sensitive  girl,  she  could  only  gnash  her  teeth  in 
disappointment. 

Stung  by  the  insults  to  which  she  could  not  grow  Insensible, 
Hannah  lay  awake  until  the  memory  of  that  walk  through  the 
darkness  came  into  her  soul  like  a  benediction.  The  harsh  voice 
of  the  ogre  died  out,  and  the  gentle  and  courteous  voice  of  Hart- 
sook  filled  her  soul.  She  recalled  piece  by  piece  the  whole  con- 
versation— all  the  commonplace  remarks  about  the  weather;  all 
the  insignificant  remarks  about  the  crops ;  all  the  unimportant 
words  about  the  spelling-school.  Not  for  the  sake  of  the  remarks. 
Not  for  the  sake  of  the  weather.  Not  for  the  sake  of  the  crops. 
Not  for  the  sake  of  the  spelling-school.  But  for  the  sake  of 
the  undertone.  And  then  she  traveled  back  over  the  three  years 
of  her  bondage  and  forward  over  the  three  years  to  come,  and 
fed  her  heart  on  the  dim  hope  of  rebuilding  in  some  form  the 
home  that  had  been  so  happy.  And  she  prayed,  with  more 
faith  than  ever  before,  for  deliverance.  For  love  brings  faith. 
Somewhere  on  in  the  sleepless  night  she  stood  at  the  win- 
dow. The  moon  was  shining  now,  and  there  was  the  path 
through  the  pasture,  and  there  was  the  fence,  akd  there  was 
the  box-alder. 


THE    WALK    HOME.  65 

She  sat  there  a  long  time.  Then  she  saw  some  one  conic 
over  the  fence  and  walk  to  the  tree,  and  then  on  toward  Pete 
Jones's.  Who  could  it  be?  She  thought  she  recognized  the 
figure.  But  she  was  chilled  and  shivering,  and  she  crept  back 
again  into  bed,  and  dreamed,  not  of  the  uncertain  days  to 
come,  but  of  the  blessed  days  that  were  past  —  of  a  father 
and  a  mother  and  a  brother  in  a  happy  home.  But  somehow 
the  school-master  was  there  too. 


66  THE    HOOSlEli    bCHOOL-MASTEE. 


CHAPTER    VL 

A   NIGHT   AT    PETE    JONES'S. 

:HEN  Ralph  got  to  Pete  Jones's  he  /ound  that 
sinister-looking  individual  in  the  act  of  kick- 
ing one  of  his  many  dogs  out  of  the  house. 
"  Come  in,  stranger,  come  in.  You'll  find  this  'ere 
house  full  of  brats,  but  I  guess  you  kin  kick  your 
way  around  among  'em.  Take  a  cheer.  Here,  git  out!  go  to 
thunder  with  you ! "  And  with  these  mild  imperatives  he  boxed 
one  of  his  boys  over  in  one  direction  and  one  of  his  girls  over  in 
the  other.  "I  believe  in  trainin'  up  children  to  mind  when 
they're  spoke  to,"  he  said  to  Ralph  apologetically.  But  it  seemed 
to  the  teacher  that  he  wanted  them  to  mind  just  a  little  before 
they  were  spoken  to. 

"  P'raps  you'd  like  bed.  Well,  jest  climb  up  the  ladder  on  the 
outside  of  the  house.  Takes  up  a  thunderin'  sight  of  room  to 
have  a  stairs  inside,  and  we  ha'n't  got  no  room  to  spare.  You'll 
find  a  bed  in  the  furdest  corner.  My  Pete's  already  got  half  of 
it,  and  you  can  take  t'other  half.  Ef  Pete  goes  to  takin'  his  half 
in  the  middle,  and  tryin'  to  make  you  take  youni  on  both  sides, 
jest  kick  him." 

In  this  comfortless  bed  "  in  the  furdest  corner,"  Ralph  found 
sleep  out  of  the  question.  Pete  took  three  fourths  of  the  bed, 


PETE  JONES. 


A     NIGHT     AT     PETE    JONES'S.  69 

and  Hannah  took  all  of  his  thoughts.  So  he  lay,  and  looked  out 
through  the  cracks  in  the  "  clapboards "  (as  they  call  rough 
shingles  in  the  old  West)  at  the  stars.  For  the  clouds  had  now 
broken  away.  And  he  lay  thus  recounting  to  himself,  as  a  miser 
counts  the  pieces  that  compose  his  hoard,  every  step  of  that  road 
from  the  time  he  had  overtaken  Hannah  in  the  hollow  to  the 
fence.  Then  he  imagined  again  the  pleasure  of  helping  her  over, 
and  then  he  retraced  the  ground  to  the  box-elder  tree  at  the 
spring,  and  repeated  to  himself  the  conversation  until  he  came 
to  the  part  in  which  she  said  that  only  time  and  God  could  help 
her.  What  did  she  mean  ?  What  was  the  hidden  part  of  her 
life?  What  was  the  connection  between  her  and  Shocky? 

Hours  wore  on,  and  still  the  mind  of  Ralph  Hartsook  went  back 
and  traveled  the  same  road,  over  the  fence,  past  the  box-elder, 
up  to  the  inexplicable  part  of  the  conversation,  and  stood  bewil- 
dered with  the  same  puzzling  questions  about  the  bound  girl's 
life. 

At  last  he  got  up,  drew  on  his  clothes,  and  sat  down  on  the 
top  of  the  ladder,  looking  down  over  the  blue-grass  pasture 
which  lay  on  the  border  between  the  land  of  Jones  and  the  land 
of  Means.  The  earth  was  white  with  moonlight.  He  could  not 
sleep.  Why  not  walk?  It  might  enable  him  to  sleep.  And 
once  determined  on  walking,  he  did  not  hesitate  a  moment  as  to 
the  direction  in  which  he  should  walk.  The  blue-grass  pasture 
(was  it  not  like  unto  the  garden  of  Eden  ?)  lay  right  before  him.  • 
That  box- elder  (was  it  not  a  tree  of  life  ?)  stood  just  in  sight.  To 
spring  over  the  fence  and  take  the  path  down  the  hill  and  over 
the  brook  was  as  quickly  done  as  decided  upon.  To  stand  again 
under  the  box- elder,  to  climb  again  over  the  farther  fence,  and  to 
walk  down  the  road  toward  the  school-house,  was  so  easy  and  so 


70  THE    HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

delightful  that  it  was  done  without  thought.  For  Ralph  was  a 
man  full  of  elan,  who,  when  he  saw  no  wrong  in  anything  that 
proposed  itself,  was  apt  to  follow  his  impulse  without  delibera- 
tion. And  this  keeping  company  with  the  stars,  and  the  memory 
of  a  delightful  walk,  were  so  much  better  than  the  commonplace 
Flat  Creek  life,  that  he  threw  himself  into  his  night  excursion 
with  enthusiasm. 

At  last  he  stood  in  the  little  hollow  where  first  he  had  joined 
himself  to  Hannah.  It  was  the  very  spot  at  which  Shocky,  too, 
had  met  him  a  few  mornings  before.  He  leaned  against  the 
fence  and  tried  again  to  solve  the  puzzle  of  Hannah's  troubles. 
For  that  she  had  troubles  he  did  not  doubt.  Neither  did  he 
doubt  that  he  could  help  her  if  he  could  discover  what  they 
were.  But  he  had  no  clue.  All  at  once  his  heart  stood  still. 
He  heard  the  thud  of  horses'  hoofs  coming  down  the  road. 
Until  that  moment  he  had  not  felt  his  own  loneliness.  He 
shrank  back  further  into  the  fence-corner.  The  horsemen  were 
galloping.  There  were  three  of  them,  and  there  was  one  figure 
that  seemed  familiar  to  Ralph.  But  he  could  not  tell  who  it  was. 
Neither  could  he  remember  having  seen  the  horse,  which  was  a 
sorrel  with  a  white  left  forefoot  and  a  white  nose.  The  men 
noticed  him  and  reined  up  a  little.  Why  he  should  have  been 
startled  by  the  presence  of  these  men  he  could  not  tell,  but  an 
indefinable  dread  seized  him.  They  galloped  on,  and  he  stood 
still  shivering  with  a  nervous  fear.  The  cold  seemed  to  have 
gotten  into  his  bones.  He  remembered  that  the  whole  region 
lying  on  Flat  Creek  and  Clifty  Creek  had  the  reputation  of  being 
infested  with  thieves,  who  practiced  horse-stealing  and  house- 
breaking.  For  ever  since  the  day  when  Murrell's  confederate 
bands  were  paralyzed  by  the  death  of  their  leader,  there  have  still 


A     NIGHT     AT     PETE     JONES'S.  71 

existed  gangs  of  desperadoes  in  parts  of  Southern  Indiana  and 
Illinois,  and  in  Iowa,  Missouri,  Kentucky,  and  the  South-west.  It 
w  out  of  these  materials  that  border  ruffianism  has  grown,  and 
the  nine  members  of  the  Reno  band  who  were  hanged  two  or 
three  years  ago  by  lynch  law,  were  remains  of  the  bad  blood  that 
came  into  the  West  in  the  days  of  Daniel  Boone.  Shall  I  not  say 
that  these  bands  of  desperadoes  still  found  among  the  "  poor 
whitey,"  "  dirt-eater "  class  are  the  outcroppings  of  the  bad  blood 
sent  from  England  in  convict-ships  ?  And  ought  an  old  country 
to  sow  the  fertile  soil  of  a  colony  with  such  noxious  seed  ? 

Before  Ralph  was  able  to  move,  he  heard  the  hoofs  of  another 
horse  striking  upon  the  hard  ground  in  an  easy  pace,  The  rider 
was  Dr.  Small.  He  checked  his  horse  hi  a  cool  way,  and  stood 
still  a  few  seconds  while  he  scrutinized  Ralph.  Then  he  rode 
on  hi  the  same  easy  gait  as  before.  Ralph  had  a  superstitious 
horror  of  Henry  Small.  And,  shuddering  with  coid,  he  crept 
like  a  thief  over  the  fence,  past  the  tree,  through  the  pasture, 
back  to  Pete  Jones's,  never  once  thinking  of  the  eyes  that  looked 
out  of  the  window  at  Means' s.  Climbing  the  ladder,  he  got  into 
bed,  and  shook  as  with  the  ague.  He  tried  to  reason  himself  out 
of  the  foolish  terror  that  possessed  him,  but  he  could  not. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  heard  a  latch  raised.  Were  the  robbers 
breaking  into  the  house  below?  He  heard  a  soft  tread  upon 
the  floor.  Should  he  rise  and  give  the  alarm  ?  Something  re- 
strained him.  He  reflected  that  a  robber  would  be  sure  to 
stumble  over  some  of  the  "  brats."  So  he  lay  still  and  finally 
slumbered,  only  awakening  when  the  place  in  which  he  slept 
was  full  of  the  smoke  of  frying  grease  from  the  room  below. 

At  breakfast  Pete  Jones  scowled.  He  was  evidently  angry 
about  something.  He  treated  Ralph  with  a  rudeness  not  to  be 


72  THE     BOOSTER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

overlooked,  as  if  he  intended  to  bring  on  a  quarrel.  Hartsook 
kept  cool,  and  wished  he  could  drive  from  his  mind  all  memory 
of  the  past  night.  "Why  should  men  on  horseback  have  any 
significance  to  him  ?  He  was  trying  to  regard  things  in  this  way, 
and  from  a  general  desire  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  his  host  he 
went  to  the  stable  to  offer  his  services  in  helping  to  feed  the  stock. 

"  Didn't  want  no  saft-handed  help ! "  was  all  he  got  in  return 
for  his  well-meant  offer.  But  just  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  stable 
he  saw  what  made  him  tremble  again.  There  was  the  same  sorrel 
horse  with  a  white  left  forefoot  and  a  white  nose. 

To  shake  off  his  nervousness,  Ralph  started  to  school  before  the 
time.  But,  plague  upon  plagues  !  Mirandy  Means,  who  had  seen 
him  leave  Pete  Jones's,  started  just  in  time  to  join  him  where 
he  came  into  the  big  road.  Ralph  was  not  in  a  good  humor 
after  his  wakeful  night,  and  to  be  thus  dogged  by  Mirandy  did 
not  help  the  matter.  So  he  found  himself  speaking  crabbeclly 
to  the  daughter  of  the  leading  trustee  in  spite  of  himself. 

"Banner's  got  a  bad  cold  this  mornin'  from  bein'  out  last 
night,  and  she  can't  come  to  spellin' -school  to-night,"  began 
Mirandy,  in  her  most  simpering  voice. 

Ralph  had  forgotten  that  there  was  to  be  another  spelling- 
school.  It  seemed  to  him  an  age  since  the  orthographical  con- 
flict of  the  past  night.  This  remark  of  Mirandy's  fell  upon  his 
ear  like  an  echo  from  the  distant  past.  He  had  lived  a  lifetime 
since,  and  was  not  sure  that  he  was  the  same  man  who  was  spell- 
ing for  dear  life  against  Jim  Phillips  twelve  hours  before.  But 
he  was  sorry  to  hear  that  Hannah  had  a  cold.  It  seemed  to 
him,  in  his  depressed  state,  that  he  was  to  blame  for  it.  In  fact, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  to  blame  for  a  good  many  things. 
He  seemed  to  have  been  committing  sin  in  spite  of  himself. 


.%.    NIGHT     A'l     PETE     JOXEs's.  73 

Broken  nerves  and  sleepless  nights  often  result  in  a  morbid 
conscience.  And  what  business  had  he  to  wander  over  this  very 
road  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  to  see  three  galloping 
horsemen,  one  of  them  on  a  hors3  with  a  white  left  forefoot 
and  a  white  nose  ?  What  business  had  he  watching  Dr.  Small  as 
he  went  home  from  the  bedside  of  a  dying  patient  near  daylight 
in  the  morning  ?  And  because  he  felt  guilty  he  felt  cross  with 
Mirandy,  and  to  her  romark  about  Hannah  he  only  replied  that 
"  Hannah  Was  a  smart  girl." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mirandy,  "  Bud  thinks  so." 

"  Does  he  ? "  said  Ralph,  pricking  up  his  ears. 

"  I  should  say  so.  What's  him  and  her  been  a-courtin'  fer  for  a 
year  of  he  didn't  think  she  was  smart  ?  Mann  don't  like  it ;  but 
cf  Bud  and  her  does,  and  they  seem  to,  I  don't  see  as  it's  mann's 
lookout." 

When  one  is  wretched,  there  is  a  pleasure  in  being  entirely 
wretched.  Ralph  felt  that  he  must  have  committed  some  un- 
known crime,  and  that  some  Nemesis  was  following  him.  Was 
Hannrh  decoitf ul  ?  At  least,  if  slie  were  not,  he  felt  sure  that 
he  could  supplant  Bud.  But  what  right  had  he  to  supplant  Bud  ? 

"  Did  you  hear  the  news  ?  "  cried  Shocky,  running  out  to  meet 
him.  "  The  Dutchman's  house  was  robbed  last  night." 

Ralph  thought  of  the  three  men  on  horseback,  and  to  save  his 
life  he  could  not  help  associating  Dr.  Small  with  them.  And 
then  he  remembered  the  sorrel  horse  with  the  left  forefoot  and 
muzzle  white,  and  he  recalled  the  sound  he  had  heard  as  of  the 
lifting  of  a  latch.  And  it  really  seemed  to  him  that  in  knowing 
what  he  did  he  was  in  some  sense  guilty  of  the  robbery. 


74  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

OMINOUS    REMARKS    OF    MR.    JONES. 

HE  school-master's  mind  was  like  ancient  Gaul — 
divided  into  three  parts.  With  one  part  he 
mechanically  performed  his  school  duties.  With 
another  he  asked  himself,  What  shall  I  do  about 
the  robbery?  And  with  the  third  he  debated  about 
Bud  and  Hannah.  For  Bud  was  not  present,  and  it  was 
clear  that  he  was  angry,  and  there  was  a  storm  brewing.  In 
fact,  it  seemed  to  Ralph  that  there  was  storm  brewing  all 
round  the  sky.  For  Pete  Jones  was  evidently  angry  at  thought 
of  having  been  watched,  and  it  was  fair  to  suppose  that  Dr. 
Small  was  not  in  any  better  humor  than  usual.  And  so,  be- 
tween Bud's  jealousy  and  revenge  and  the  suspicion  and  resent- 
ment of  the  men  engaged  in  the  robbery  at  "the  Dutchman's" 
(as  the  only  German  in  the  whole  region  was  called),  Ralph's 
excited  nerves  had  cause  for  tremor.  At  one  moment  he 
would  resolve  to  have  Hannah  at  all  costs.  In  the  next  his 
conscience  would  question  the  rightfulness  of  the  conclusion. 
Then  he  would  make  up  his  mind  to  tell  all  that  he  knew 
about  the  robbery.  But  if  he  told  his  suspicions  about  Small, 
nobody  would  believe  him.  And  if  he  told  about  Pete  Jones, 
he  really  could  tell  only  enough  to  bring  vengeance  upon  him- 
self. And  how  could  he  explain  his  own  walk  through  the 
pasture  and  down  the  road  ?  What  business  had  he  being  out 


OMIXOUS    REMARKS    OF    MR.    JOXES.  75 

of  bed  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning?  The  circumstantial  evi- 
dence was  quite  as  strong  against  him  as  against  the  man  on 
the  horse  with  the  white  left  forefoot  and  the  white  nose. 
Suspicion  might  fasten  on  himself.  And  then  what  would  be 
the  effect  on  his  prospects  ?  On  the  people  at  Lewisburg  ?  On 
'Hannah?  It  is  astonishing  how  much  instruction  and  coinfor* 


BULL. 

there  is  in  a  bull-dog.  This  slender  school-master,  who  had 
been  all  his  life  repressing  the  animal  and  developing  the  finer 
nature,  now  found  a  need  of  just  what  the  bull-dog  had.  And 
so,  with  the  thought  of  how  his  friend  the  dog  would  fight  hi 
a  desperate  strait,  he  determined  to  take  hold  of  his  difficulties 
as  Bull  took  hold  of  the  raccoon.  Moral  questions  he  post- 
poned for  careful  decision.  But  for  the  present  he  set  his  teeth 
together  in  a  desperate,  bull-dog  fashion,  and  he  set  his  feet 
down  slowly,  positively,  bull-doggedly.  After  a  wretched  sup- 
per at  Pete  Jones's  he  found  himself  at  the  spelling- school, 


76  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

which,  owing  to  the  absence  of  Hannah  and  the  excitement 
about  the  burglary,  was  a  dull  aflLir.  Half  the  evening  was 
spent  in  talking  in  little  knots.  Pote  Jones  had  taken  the  af- 
flicted "Dutchman"  under  his  own  particular  supervision. 

"I  s'pose,"  said  Pete,  "that  them  air  fellers  what  robbed 
/our  house  must  a  come  down  from  Jinkins  Run.  They're 
the  blamedest  set  up  there  I  ever  see." 

"  Ya-as,"  said  Schroeder,  "  put  how  did  Yinkins  vellers  know 
clat  I  sell  te  medder  to  te  Shquire,  hey?  How  tid  Yinkins 
know  anyting  'bout  the  Shquire's  bavin'  me  dree  huntert  in  te 
hard  gash — hey  ?  " 

"  Some  scoundrels  down  in  these  ere  parts  is  a-layin'  in  with 
Jinkins  Run,  I'll  bet  a  boss,"  said  Pete.  Ralph  wondered 
whether  he'd  bet  the  one  with  the  white  left  forefoot  and  the 
white  nose.  "  Now,"  said  Pete,  "  ef  I  could  find  the  feller  that's 
a  helpin'  them  scoundrels  rob  us  folks,  I'd  help  stretch  him 
to  the  neardest  tree." 

"  So  vood  I,"  said  Schroeder.  "  I'd  shtretch  him  dill  he  baid 
me  my  dree  huntert  tollars  pack,  so  I  vood." 

And  Betsey  Short,  who  had  found  the  whole  affair  very  funny, 
was  transported  with  a  fit  of  tittering  at  poor  Schroeder's  Eng- 
lish. Ralph,  fearing  that  his  silence  would  excite  suspicion, 
tried  to  talk.  But  he  could  not  tell  what  he  knew,  and  all  that 
he  said  sounded  so  hollow  and  hypocritical  that  it  made  him 
feel  guilty.  And  so  he  shut  his  mouth,  and  meditated  profita- 
bly on  the  subject  of  bull-dogs.  And  when  later  he  overheard 
the  garrulous  Jones  declare  that  he'd  bet  a  hoss  he  could  p'int 
out  somebody  as  know'd  a  blamed  sight  more'n  they  keer'd  to 
tell,  he  made  up  his  mind  that  if  it  came  to  p'inting  out  he 
should  try  to  be  even  with  Jones. 


THE   STRUGGLE    IN    THE    DARK.  77 


CHAPTER    Vin. 

THE   STRUGGLE    IN   THE    DARK. 

^~^v 

ST  was  a  long,  lonesome,  fearful  night  that  the 

school-master  passed,  lying  with  nerves  on  edge 
and  eyes  wide  open  in  that  comfortless  bed  in  the 
"  furdest  corner "  of  the  loft  of  Pete  Jones's  house, 
shivering  with  cold,  while  the  light  snow  that  was 
falling  sifted  in  upon  the  ragged  patch-work  quilt  that  covered 
him.  Nerves  shattered  by  sleeplessness  imagine  many  things, 
and  for  the  first  hour  Ralph  felt  sure  that  Pete  would  cut  his 
throat  before  morning.  And  you,  friend  Callow,  who  have 
blunted  your  palate  by  swallowing  the  Cayenne  pepper  of  the 
penny-dreadfuls,  or  of  a  certain  sort  of  Sunday-school  books, 
you  wish  me  to  make  this  night  exciting  by  a  hand-to-hand 
contest  between  Ralph  and  a  robber.  You  would  like  it  better 
if  there  were  a  trap-door.  There's  nothing  so  convenient  as  a 
trap-door,  unless  it  be  a  subterranean  passage.  And  you'd  like 
something  of  that  sort  just  here.  It's  so  pleasant  to  have  one's 
hair  stand  on  end,  you  know,  when  one  is  safe  from  danger  to 
one's  self.  But  if  you  want  each  individual  hair  to  bristle  with 
such  a  "  Struggle  in  the  Dark,"  you  can  buy  trap-doors  and 
subterranean  passages  dirt-cheap  at  the  next  news-stand.  Unt 


78  THE    HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

it  was,  indeed,  a  real  and  terrible  "  Struggle  in  the  Dark " 
that  Ralph  fought  out  at  Pete  Jones's. 

When  he  had  vanquished  his  fears  of  personal  violence  by 
reminding  himself  that  it  would  be  folly  for  Jones  to  commit 
murder  hi  his  own  house,  the  question  of  Bud  and  Hannah 
took  the  uppermost  place  in  his  thoughts.  And  as  the  imago 
of  Hannah  spelling  against  the  master  came  up  to  him,  as  the 
memory  of  the  walk,  the  talkr  the  box-alder  tree,  and  all  the 
rest  took  possession  of  him,  it  seemed  to  Ralph  that  his  very 
life  depended  upon  his  securing  her  love.  He  would  shut  his 
teeth  like  the  jaws  of  a  bull-dog,  and  all  Bud's  muscles  should  not 
prevail  over  his  resolution  and  his  stratagems. 

It  was  easy  to  persuade  himself  that  this  was  right.  Hannah 
ought  not  to  throw  herself  away  on  Bud  Means.  Men  of  some 
culture  always  play  their  conceit  off  against  their  consciences. 
To  a  man  of  literary  habits  it  always  seems  to  be  a  great  boon 
that  he  confers  on  a  woman  when  he  gives  her  his  love.  Rea- 
soning thus,  Ralph  had  fixed  his  resolution,  and  if  the  night 
had  been  shorter,  or  sleep  possible,  the  color  of  his  life  might 
have  been  changed. 

But  sometime  along  hi  the  tedious  hours  came  the  memory  of 
his  childhood,  the  words  of  his  mother,  the  old  Bible  stories,  the 
aspiration  after  nobility  of  spirit,  the  solemn  resolutions  to  be  true 
to  his  conscience.  These  angels  of  the  memory  came  flocking 
back  before  the  animal,  the  bull-doggedness,  had  "set,"  as 
workers  in  plaster  say.  He  remembered  the  story  of  David  and 
Nathan,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he,  with  all  his  abilities  and 
ambitions  and  prospects,  was  about  to  rob  Bud  of  the  one  ewe- 
lamb,  the  only  thing  he  had  to  rejoice  in  in  his  life.  In  getting 
Hannah,  he  would  make  himself  unworthy  of  Hannah.  And 


THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  DARK.  79 

then  there  came  to  him  a  vision  of  the  supreme  value  of  a  true 
character ;  how  it  was  better  than  success,  better  than  to  be  loved, 
better  than  heaven.  And  how  near  he  had  been  to  missing  it ! 
And  how  certain  he  was,  when  these  thoughts  should  fade,  to 
miss  it !  He  was  as  one  fighting  for  a  great  prize  who  feels  his 
strength  failing  and  is  sure  of  defeat. 

This  was  the  real,  awful  "Struggle  in  the  Dark."  A  human 
soul  fighting  with  heaven  in  sight,  but  certain  of  slipping  inevita- 
bly into  hell !  It  was  the  same  old  battle.  The  Image  of  God 
fought  with  the  Image  of  the  Devil.  It  was  the  same  fight  that 
Paul  described  so  dramatically  when  he  represented  the  Spirit  as 
contending  with  the  Flesh.  Paul  also  called  this  dreadful  some- 
thing the  Old  Adam,  and  I  suppose  Darwin  would  call  it  the 
remains  of  the  Wild  Beast.  But  call  it  what  you  will,  it  is  the 
battle  that  every  well-endowed  soul  must  fight  at  some  point 
And  to  Ralph  it  seemed  that  the  final  victory  of  the  Evil,  the  Old 
Adam,  the  Flesh,  the  Wild  Beast,  the  Devil,  was  certain.  For, 
was  not  the  pure,  unconscious  face  of  Hannah  on  the  Devil's 
side  ?  And  so  the  battle  had  just  as  well  be  given  up  at  once, 
for  it  must  be  lost  in  the  end. 

But  to  Ralph,  lying  there  in  the  still  darkness,  with  his  con- 
science as  wide-awake  as  if  it  were  the  Day  of  Doom,  there 
seemed  something  so  terrible  in  this  overthrow  of  the  better 
nature  which  he  knew  to  be  inevitable  as  soon  as  the  voice  of 
conscience  became  blunted,  that  he  looked  about  for  help.  He 
did  not  at  first  think  of  God ;  but  there  came  into  his  thoughts  the 
memory  of  a  travel-worn  Galilean  peasant,  hungry,  sleepy,  weary, 
tempted,  tried,  like  other  men,  but  having  a  strange,  divine  Vic- 
tory in  him  by  which  everything  evil  was  vanquished  at  his 
coming.  He  remembered  how  He  had  reached  out  a  Hand  to 


80  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

every  helpless  one,  how  he  was  the  Helper  of  every  weak  one. 
And  out  of  the  depths  of  his  soul  he  cried  to  the  Helper,  and 
found  comfort.  Not  victory,  but,  what  is  better,  strength.  And 
so,  without  a  thought  of  the  niceties  of  theological  distinctions, 
without  dreaming  that  it  was  the  beginning  of  a  religious  expe- 
rience, he  found  what  he  needed,  help.  And  the  Helper  gave  his 
beloved  sleep. 


HAS    GOD    FORGOTTEN   SHOCK Y  ?  8J 


CHAPTER    IX. 

HAS  GOD  FORGOTTEN  SHOCKT? 

'AP  wants  to  know  ef  you  would  spend  to- 
morry  and  Sunday  at  our  house  ?  "  said  one 
of  Squire  Hawkins's  girls,  on  the  very  next  evening, 
which  was  Friday.  The  old  Squire  was  thoughtful 
enough  to  remember  that  Ralph  would  not  find  it 
very  pleasant  "  boarding  out "  all  the  time  he  was  entitled  to 
spend  at  Pete  Jones's.  For  in  view  of  the  fact  that  Mr.  Pete 
Jones  sent  seven  children  to  the  school,  the  "  Master "  in  Fkt 
Creek  district  was  bound  to  spend  two  weeks  in  that  comfort' 
able  place,  sleeping  in  a  preoccupied  bed,  in  the  "  furdcst  corner," 
with  insufficient  cover,  under  an  insufficient  roof,  and  eating  float 
ing  islands  of  salt  pork  fished  out  of  oceans  of  hot  lard.  Ralph 
was  not  slow  to  accept  the  relief  offered  by  the  hospitable 
justice  of  the  peace,  whose  principal  business  seemed  to  be  the 
adjustment  of  the  pieces  of  which  he  was  composed.  And  as 
Shocky  traveled  the  same  road,  Ralph  took  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  to  talk  with  him.  The  Master  could  not  dismiss 
Hannah  wholly  from  his  mind.  He  would  at  least  read  the 
mystery  of  her  life,  if  Shocky  could  be  prevailed  on  to  fur- 
nish the  clue. 


82  THE    HOOSIEll     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  Poor  old  tree ! "  said  Shocky,  pointing  to  a  crooked  and 
gnarled  elm  standing  by  itself  in  the  middle  of  a  field.  For  when 
the  elm,  naturally  the  most  graceful  of  trees,  once  gets  a  "bacil 


SHOCKY. 

set,"  as  ladies  say,  it  can  grow  to  be  the  most  deformed.  This 
solitary  tree  had  not  a  single  straight  limb. 

"  Why  do  you  say  '  poor  old  tree '  ?  "  asked  Ralph. 

"  'Cause  it's  lonesome.  All  its  old  friends  is  dead  and  chopped 
down,  and  there's  their  stumps  a-standin'  jes  like  grave-stones.  It 
must  be  lonesome.  Some  folks  says  it  don't  feel,  but  I  think  it 
does.  Everything  seems  to  think  and  feel.  See  it  sodding  its 


HAS  GOD  FORGOTTEN  SHOCKY  ?  83 

head  to  them  other  trees  in  the  woods,  and  a-wantin'  to  shake 
hands!  But  it  can't  move.  I  think  that  tree  must  a-growed  in 
the  night." 

"Why,  Shocky?" 

"  'Cause  it's  so  crooked,"  and  Shocky  laughed  at  his  own  con- 
ceit; "must  a-growed  when  they  was  no  light  so  as  it  could 
see  how  to  grow." 

And  then  the}*-  walked  on  in  silence  a  minute.  Presently  Shocky 
began  looking  up  into  Ralph's  eyes  to  get  a  smile.  "  I  guess  that 
tree  feels  just  like  me.  Don't  you?" 

"  Why,  how  do  you  feel  ?  " 

"  Kind  o'  bad  and  lonesome,  and  like  as  if  I  wanted  to  die, 
you  know.  Felt  that  way  ever  sence  they  put  my  father  into  the 
graveyard,  and  sent  my  mother  to  the  poor-house  and  Banner 
to  ole  Miss  Means's.  What  kind  of  a  place  is  a  poor-house? 
Is  it  a  poorer  place  than  Means's?  I  wish  I  was  dead  and 
one  of  them  clouds  was  a  carryin'  me  and  Hanner  and  mother 
up  to  where  father's  gone,  you  know !  I  wonder  if  God  forgets 
all  about  poor  folks  when  their  father  dies  and  their  mother  gits 
into  the  poor-house  ?  Do  you  think  he  does  ?  Seems  so  to  me. 
May  be  God  lost  track  of  my  father  when  he  come  away  from 
England  and  crossed  over  the  sea.  Don't  nobody  on  Flat  Creek 
keer  fer  God,  and  I  guess  God  don't  keer  fer  Flat  Creek.  But 
I  would  though,  ef  he'd  git  my  mother  out  of  the  poor-house 
and  git  Hanner  away  from  Means's,  and  let  me  kiss  my  mother 
every  night,  you  know,  and  sleep  on  my  Banner's  arm,  jes  like 
I  used  to  afore  father  died,  you  sec." 

Ralph  wanted  to  speak,  but  he  couldn't.  And  so  Shocky,  with 
dis  eyes  looking  straight  ahead,  and  as  if  forgetting  Ralph's  pres- 
ence, told  over  the  thoughts  that  he  had  often  talked  over  to 


84  THE    IIOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

the  fence-rails  and  the  trees.  "  It  was  real  good  in  Mr.  Pearson 
to  take  me,  wasn't  it  ?  Else  I'd  a  been  bound  out  tell  I  was 
twenty-one,  may  be,  to  some  mean  man  like  Ole  Means.  And  I 
a'n't  but  seven.  And  it  would  take  me  thirteen  years  to  git 
twenty -one,  and  I  never  could  live  with  my  mother  again  after 
Hanner  gets  done  her  time.  'Cause,  you  see,  Hanner'll  be 
through  in  three  more  year,  and  I'll  be  ten  and  able  to  work, 
and  we'll  git  a  little  place  about  as  big  as  Granny  Sanders's, 
and " 

Ralph  did  not  hear  another  word  of  what  Shocky  said  that 
afternoon.  For  there,  right  before  them,  was  Granny  Sanders's 
log  cabin,  with  its  row  of  lofty  sun-flower  stalks,  now  dead 
and  dry,  in  front,  with  its  ram-water  barrel  by  the  side  of  the 
low  door,  and  its  ash-barrel  by  the  fence.  In  this  cabin  lived 
alone  the  old  and  shriveled  hag  whose  hideousness  gave  her  a 
reputation  for  almost  supernatural  knowledge.  She  was  at  once 
doctress  and  newspaper.  She  collected  and  disseminated  medi- 
cinal herbs  and  personal  gossip.  She  was  in  every  regard  indis- 
pensable to  the  intellectual  life  of  the  neighborhood.  In  the  mat- 
ter of  her  medical  skill  we  can  not  express  an  opinion,  for  her 
"  yarbs  "  are  not  to  be  found  in  the  pharmacopoeia  of  science. 

What  took  Ralph's  breath  was  to  find  Dr.  Small's  fine,  faultless 
horse  standing  at  the  door.  What  did  Henry  Small  want  to  visit 
this  old  quack  for? 


THE    DEVIL    OF    SILENCE. 


85 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE    DEVIL    OF    SILENCE. 

ALPH  had  reason  to  fear  Small.  They  were 
natives  of  the  same  village  of  Lewisburg,  though 
Small  was  five  years  the  elder.  Some  facts  in  the 
doctor's  life  had  come  into  Ralph's  possession  in 
such  a  way  as  to  confirm  life-long  suspicion  with- 
out giving  him  power  to  expose  Small,  who  was  firmly  intrenched 
in  the  good  graces  of  the  people  of  the  county -seat  village  of 
Lewisburg,  where  he  had  grown  up,  and  of  the  little  cross-roads 
village  of  Clifty,  where  his  "  shingle  "  now  hung. 

Small  was  no  ordinary  villain.  He  was  a  genius.  Your  ordi- 
nary hypocrite  talks  cant.  Small  talked  nothing.  He  was  the 
coolest,  the  steadiest,  the  most  silent,  the  most  promising  boy  ever 
born  in  Lewisburg.  He  made  no  pretensions.  He  set  up  no 
claims.  He. uttered  no  professions.  He  went  right  on  and  lived 
a  life  above  reproach.  Your  vulgar  hypocrite  makes  long  prayers 
in  prayer-meeting.  Small  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  He  sat  still 
in  prayer-meeting,  and  listened  to  the  elders  as  a  modest  young 
man  should.  Your  commonplace  hypocrite  boasts.  Small  never 
alluded  to  himself,  and  thus  a  consummate  egotist  got  credit 
for  modesty.  It  is  but  an  indifferent  trick  for  a  hypocrite  to 


86  THE    HOOSIEB     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

make  temperance  speeches.  Dr.  Small  did  not  even  belong  to 
a  temperance  society.  But  lie  could  never  be  persuaded  to  drink 
even  so  much  as  a  cup  of  tea.  There  was  something  sublime 
in  the  quiet  voice  with  which  he  would  say,  "Cold  water,  If 
you  please,"  to  a  lady  tempting  him  with  smoking  coffee  on  a 
cold  morning.  There  was  no  exultation,  no  sense  of  merit  in  the 
act.  Everything  was  done  in  a  modest  and  matter-of-course  way 
beautiful  to  behold.  And  his  face  was  a  neutral  tint.  Neither 
face  nor  voice  expressed  anything.  Only  a  keen  reader  of 
character  might  have  asked  whether  all  there  was  in  that  eye 
could  live  contented  with  this  cool,  austere,  self-contained  life ; 
whether  there  would  not  be  somewhere  a  volcanic  eruption.  But 
if  there  was  any  sea  of  molten  lava  beneath,  the  world  did  not 
discover  it.  Wild  boys  were  sick  of  having  Small  held  up  to 
them  as  the  most  immaculate  of  men. 

Kalph  had  failed  to  get  two  schools  for  which  he  had  applied, 
and  had  attributed  both  failures  to  certain  shrugs  of  Dr.  Small 
And  now,  when  he  found  Small  at  the  house  of  Granny  Sanders, 
the  center  of  intelligence  as  well  as  of  ignorance  for  the  neigh, 
borhood,  he  trembled.  Not  that  Small  would  say  anything. 
He  never  said  anything.  He  damned  people  by  a  silence  worse 
than  words. 

Granny  Sanders  was  not  a  little  flattered  by  the  visit. 

"  Why,  doctor,  howdy,  howdy !  Come  in,  take  a  cheer.  I  am 
glad  to  see  you.  I  'lowed  you'd  come.  Old  Dr.  Flounder  used 
to  say  he  larnt  lots  o'  things  of  me.  But  most  of  the  doctors  sence 
hez  been  kinder  stuck  up,  you  know.  But  I  know'd  you  fer  a 
man  of  intelligence." 

Meantime,  Small,  by  his  grave  silence  and  attention,  had  almost 
smothered  the  old  hag  with  flattery  without  saying  one  single  word. 


THE    DEVIL    OF    SILENCE.  87 

"  Many' s  the  case  I've  cured  with  yarbs  and  things.  Nigh  upon 
twenty  year  ago  they  was  a  man  lived  over  on  Wild  Cat  Run 
as  had  a  breakin'-out  on  his  side.  'Twas  the  left  side,  jes  below 
the  waist.  Doctor  couldn't  do  nothin'.  'Twas  Doctor  Peacham, 
He  never  would  have  nothin'  to  do  with  '  ole  woman's  cures.1 
Well,  the  man  was  goin'  to  die.  Everybody  seed  that.  And 
they  come  a  driving  away  over  here  all  the  way  from  the  Wild 
Cat.  Think  of  that  air  !  I  never  was  so  flustered.  But  as  soon 
as  I  laid  eyes  on  that  air  man,  I  says,  says  I,  that  air  man,  says  I, 
has  got  the  shingles,  says  I.  I  know'd  the  minute  I  seed  it.  And 
ii  they'd  a  gone  clean  around,  nothing  could  a  saved  him.  I  says, 
says  I,  git  me  a  black  cat.  So  I  jist  killed  a  black  cat,  and  let  the 
blood  run  all  over  the  swellin'.  I  tell  you,  doctor,  they's  nothin' 
like  it.  That  man  was  well  in  a  month." 

"  Did  you  use  the  blood  warm  V  "  asked  Small  with  a  solemnity 
most  edifying. 

These  were  the  only  words  he  had  utiereu  since  ne  entered  the 
cabin. 

"  Laws,  yes ;  I  jest  let  it  run  right  out  of  the  cat's  tail  onto 
the  breakin'-out.  And  fer  airesipelus,  I  don't  know  nothin'  so 
good  as  the  blood  of  a  black  hen." 

"  How  old  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

"  There  you  showed  yer  science,  doctor  !  They's  no  power  in 
a  pullet.  The  older  the  black  hen  the  better.  And  you  know 
the  cure  fer  rheumatiz  "  And  here  the  old  woman  got  down  a 
bottle  of  grease.  "  That's  ile  from  a  black  dog.  Ef  it's  rendered 
right,  it'll  knock  the  hind  sights  off  of  any  rheumatiz  you  ever 
see.  But  it  must  be  rendered  in  the  dark  of  the  moon.  Else  a 
black  dog's  ile  a' n't  worth  no  more  nor  a  white  one's." 

And  all  this  time  Small  was  smelling  of  the  uncorked  bottle, 


88  THE     IIOOSIEK     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

taking  a  little  on  his  finger  and  feeling  of  it,  and  thus  feeling 
his  way  to  the  heart — drier  than  her  herbs — of  the  old  witch. 
And  then  he  went  round  the  cabin  gravely,  lifting  each  separate 
bunch  of  dried  yarbs  from  its  nail,  smelling  of  it,  and  then,  by 
making  an  interrogation-point  of  his  silent  face,  he  managed  to 
get  a  lecture  from  her  on  each  article  in  her  materia  mcdica,  with 
the  most  marvelous  stories  illustrative  of  their  virtues.  When 
the  Granny  had  gotten  her  fill  of  his  silent  flattery,  he  was  ready 
to  carry  forward  his  main  purpose. 

There  was  something  weird  about  this  silent  man's  ability  to 
turn  the  conversation  as  he  chose  to  have  it  go.  Sitting  by  the 
Granny's  tea-table,  nibbling  corn-bread  while  he  drank  his  glass 
of  water,  having  declined  even  her  sassafras,  he  ceased  to  stimu- 
late her  medical  talk  and  opened  the  vein  of  gossip.  Once  started, 
Granny  Sanders  was  sure  to  allude  to  the  robbery.  And  once 
on  the  robbery  the  doctor's  course  was  clear. 

"  I  'low  somebody  not  fur  away  is  in  this  'ere  business  !  " 

Not  by  a  word,  nor  even  by  a  nod,  but  by  some  motion  of  the 
eyelids,  perhaps,  Small  indicated  that  he  agreed  with  her. 

"  Who  d'ye  s'pose  'tis  ?  " 

But  Dr.  Small  was  not  in  the  habit  of  supposing.  He  moved 
his  head  in  a  quiet  way,  just  the  least  perceptible  bit,  but  so  that 
the  old  creature  understood  that  he  could  give  light  if  he 
wanted  to. 

"  I  dunno  anybody  that's  been  'bout  here  long  as  could  be 
suspected." 

Another  motion  of  the  eyelids  indicated  Small's  agreement  with 
this  remark. 

"  They  a'n't  nobody  come  in  here  lately  'ceppin'  the  master." 

Small  looked  vacantly  at  the  wall. 


THE    DEVIL    OP    SILENCE.  91 

"  But  I  'low  he's  allcrs  bore  a  tip-top  character."  The  doctor 
was  too  busy  looking  at  his  corn-bread  to  answer  this  remark 
even  by  a  look. 

"  But  I  think  these  oversmart  young  men'll  bear  looking  arter, 
/  do." 

Dr.  Small  raised  his  eyes  and  let  them  shine  an  assent.  That 
was  all. 

"  Shouldn't  wonder  ef  our  master  was  overly  fond  of  gals." 

Doctor  looks  down  at  his  plate. 

"  Had  plenty  of  sweethearts  afore  he  walked  home  with  Han- 
ner  Thomson  t'other  night,  I'll  bet." 

Did  Dr.  Small  shrug  his  shoulder?  Granny  thought  she  de- 
tected a  faint  motion  of  the  sort,  but  she  could  not  be  sure. 

"  And  I  think  as  how  that  a  feller  what  trifles  with  gals'  hearts 
and  then  runs  off  ten  miles,  may  be  a'n't  no  better'n  he  had  orter 
be.  That's  what  I  says,  says  I." 

To  this  general  remark  Dr.  Small  assented  in  his  invisible — 
shall  I  say  intangible  f — way. 

"  I  allers  think,  may  be,  that  some  folks  has  found  it  best  to 
leave  home  and  go  away.  You  can't  never  tell.  But  when  people 
is  a-bein'  robbed  it's  well  to  look  out.  Hey  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Small  quietly,  and,  having  taken  his  hat  and 
bowed  a  solemn  and  respectful  adieu,  he  departed. 

He  had  not  spoken  twenty  words,  but  he  had  satisfied  the  news- 
monger of  Flat  Creek  that  Ralph  was  a  bad  character  at  home, 
and  worthy  of  suspicion  of  burglary. 


TILE     1IOOSLEK     SCUOOL-MASTKR. 


CHAPTER    XL 

MISS    MAKTHA    HAWKINS. 

T'S  very  good  for  the  health  to  dig  in  the  ele- 
ments. I  was  quite  emaciated  last  year  at  the 
East,  and  the  doctor  told  me  to  dig  in  the  elements. 
I  got  me  a  florial  hoe  and  dug,  and  it's  been  most 
excellent  for  me."  Time,  the  Saturday  following 
the  Friday  on  which  Ralph  kept  Shocky  company  as  far  as  the 
"  forks  "  near  Granny  Sanders's  house.  Scene,  the  Squire's  garden. 
Ralph  helping  that  worthy  magistrate  perform  sundry  little  jobs 
such  as  a  warm  winter  day  suggests  to  the  farmer.  Miss  Martha 
Hawkins,  the  Squire's  niece,  and  his  housekeeper  in  his  present 
bereaved  condition,  leaning  over  the  palings — pickets  she  called 
them — of  the  garden  fence,  talking  to  the  master.  Miss  Hawkins 
was  recently  from  Massachusetts.  How  many  people  there  are 
in  the  most  cultivated  communities  whose  education  is  partial ! 

"It's  very  common  for  school-masters  to  dig  in  the  elements 
at  the  East,"  proceeded  Miss  Martha.  Like  many  other  people 
born  in  the  celestial  empires  (of  which  there  are  three — China, 
Virginia,  Massachusetts),  Miss  Martha  was  not  averse  to  remind- 


MISS    M  Aim  I A     II  AAV  KINS.  93 

ing  outside  barbarians  of  her  good  fortune  in  this  regard.     It  did 
her  good  to  speak  of  the  East. 

Now  Ralph  was  amused  with  Miss  Martha.  She  really  had  a 
good  deal  of  intelligence  despite  her  affectation,  and  conversation 
with  her  was  both  interesting  and  diverting.  It  helped  him  to 
forget  Hannah,  and  Bud,  and  the  robbery,  and  all  the  rest,  and 
she  was  so  delighted  to  find  somebody  to  make  an  impression 


MISS  MARTHA  HAWKINS. 

on  that  she  had  come  out  to  talk  while  Ralph  was  at  work.  But 
just  at  this  moment  the  school-master  was  not  so  much  inter- 
ested in  her  interesting  remarks,  nor  so  much  amused  by  her 
amusing  remarks,  as  he  should  have  been.  He  saw  a  man  coming 
down  the  road  riding  one  horse  and  leading  another,  and  he 
recognized  the  horses  at  a  distance.  It  must  be  Bud  who  was 
riding  Means's  bay  mare  and  leading  Bud's  roan  colt.  Bud  had 
been  to  mill,  and  as  the  man  who  owned  the  horse-mill  kept 


94  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

but  one  old  blind  horse  himself,  it  was  necessary  that  End  should 
take  two.  It  required  three  horses  to  run  the  mill ;  the  old  blind 
one  could  grind  the  grist,  but  the  two  others  had  to  overcome 
the  friction  of  the  clumsy  machine. 

But  it  was  not  about  the  horse-mill  that  Ralph  was  thinking, 
nor  about  the  two  horses.  Since  that  Wednesday  evening  on 
which  he  escorted  Hannah  home  from  the  spelling-school  he 
had  not  seen  Bud  Means.  If  he  had  any  lingering  doubts  of  the 
truth  of  what  Mirandy  had  said,  they  had  been  dissipated  by  the 
absence  of  Bud  from  school. 

"  When  I  was  to  Bosting "Miss  Martha  was  to  Boston  only 

once  in  her  life,  but  as  her  visit  to  that  sacred  city  was  the  most 
important  occurrence  of  her  life,  she  did  not  hesitate  to  air 
her  reminiscences  of  it  frequently.  "  "When  I  was  to  Bosting," 
she  was  just  saying,  when,  following  the  indications  of  Ralph's 
eyes,  she  saw  Bud  coming  up  the  hill  near  Squire  Hawkins's 
house.  Bud  looked  red  and  sulky,  and  to  Ralph's  and  Miss 
Martha  Hawkins's  polite  recognitions  he  returned  only  a  surly 
nod.  They  both  saw  that  he  was  angry.  Ralph  was  able  to 
guess  the  meaning  of  his  wrath. 

Toward  evening  Ralph  strolled  through  the  Squire's  cornfield 
toward  the  woods.  The  memory  of  the  walk  with  Hannah  was 
heavy  upon  the  heart  of  the  young  master,  and  there  was  comfort 
hi  the  very  miserableness  of  the  cornstalks  with  their  disheveled 
blades  hanging  like  tattered  banners  and  rattling  discordantly  hi 
the  rising  wind.  Wandering  without  purpose,  Ralph  followed 
the  rows  of  stalks  first  one  way  and  then  the  other  in  a 
zigzag  line,  turning  a  right  angle  every  minute  or  two.  At 
last  he  came  out  in  a  woods  mostly  of  beech,  and  he  pleased 
his  melancholy  fancy  by  kicking  the  dry  and  silky  leaves  be- 


MISS    MARTHA     HAWKINS.  95 

fore  him  in  billows,  while  the  soughing  of  the  wind  through 
the  long,  vibrant  boughs  and  slender  twigs  of  the  beech  forest 
seemed  to  put  the  world  into  the  wailing  minor  key  of  his 
own  despaii. 

What  a  fascination  there  is  in  a  path  come  upon  suddenly  with- 
out a  knowledge  of  its  termination!  Here  was  one  running  in 
easy,  irregular  curves  through  the  wood,  now  turning  gently  to 
the  right  in  order  to  avoid  a  stump,  now  swaying  suddenly  to  the 
left  to  gain  an  easier  descent  at  a  steep  place,  and  now  turning 
wantonly  to  the  one  side  or  the  other,  as  if  from  very  caprice  in 
the  man  who  by  idle  steps  unconsciously  marked  the  line  of  the 
foot-path  at  first.  Ralph  could  not  resist  the  impulse  —  who 
could? — to  follow  the  path  and  find  out  its  destination,  and  fol- 
lowing it  he  came  presently  into  a  lonesome  hollow,  where  a 
brook  gurgled  among  the  heaps  of  bare  limestone  rocks  that  filled 
its  bed.  Following  the  path  still,  he  came  upon  a  queer  little 
cabin  built  of  round  logs,  in  the  midst  of  a  small  garden  patch  in- 
closed by  a  brush  fence.  The  stick  chimney,  daubed  with  clay 
and  topped  with  a  barrel  open  at  both  ends,  made  this  a  typical 
cabin. 

It  flashed  upon  Ralph  that  this  place  must  be  Rocky  Hollow, 
and  that  this  was  the  house  of  old  John  Pearson,  the  one-legged 
basket- maker,  and  his  rheumatic  wife — the  house  that  hospitably 
sheltered  Shocky.  Following  his  impulse,  he  knocked  and  was 
admitted,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  Miss  Martha  Haw- 
kins there  before  him. 

"  You  here,  Miss  Hawkins  ?  "  he  said  when  he  had  returned 
Shocky's  greeting  and  shaken  hands  with  the  old  couple. 

"  Bless  you,  yes,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  That  blessed  gyirl  "—the 
old  lady  called  her  a  girl  by  a  sort  of  figure  of  speech  perhaps— 


96  THE    HOOSIEB    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  that  blessed  gyirl's  the  kindest  creetur  you  ever  saw — comes  here 
every  day,  most,  to  cheer  a  body  up  with  somethin'  or  nuther." 

Miss  Martha  blushed,  and  said  "  she  came  because  Rocky  Hol- 
low looked  so  much  like  a  place  she  used  to  know  at  the  East. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pearson  were  the  kindest  people.  They  reminded 
her  of  people  she  knew  at  the  East.  When  she  was  to 
Bosting " 

Here  the  old  basket-maker  lifted  his  head  from  his  work,  and 
said  :  "  Pshaw  !  that  talk  about  kyindness  "  (he  was  a  Kentuckian. 
and  said  kyindness)  "  is  all  humbug.  I  wonder  so  smart  a  woman 
as  you  don't  know  better.  You  come  nearder  to  bein'  kyind  than 
anybody  I  know ;  but,  laws  a  me !  we're  all  selfish  akordhV 
to  my  tell." 

"  You  wasn't  selfish  when  you  set  up  with  my  father  most 
every  night  for  two  weeks,"  said  Shocky,  as  he  handed  the  old 
man  a  splint. 

"  Yes,  I  was,  too !  "  This  in  a  tone  that  made  Ralph  tremble. 
"  Your  father  was  a  miserable  Britisher.  I'd  fit  red-coats,  in  the 
war  of  eighteen-twelve,  and  lost  my  leg  by  one  of  'em  stickin  his 
dog-on'd  bagonet  right  through  it,  that  night  at  Lundy's  Lane ; 
but  my  messmate  killed  him  though,  which  is  a  satisfaction  to 
think  on.  And  I  didn't  like  your  father,  'cause  he  was  a  Brit- 
isher. But  ef  he'd  a  died  right  here  in  this  free  country,  'thout 
nobody  to  give  him  a  drink  of  water,  blamed  ef  I  wouldn't  a  been 
ashamed  to  set  on  the  platform  at  a  Fourth  of-July  barbecue,  and 
to  hold  up  my  wooden  leg  for  to  make  the  boys  cheer  !  That  was 
the  selfishest  thing  I  ever  done.  We're  all  selfish  akordm'  to 
my  tell." 

"  You  wasn't  selfish  when  you  took  me  that  night,  you  know," 
and  Shocky's  face  beamed  with  gratitude. 


MISS     MARTHA     HAWKINS.  99 

"  Yes,  I  war  too,  you  little  sass-box !  What  did  I  take  you  fer  ? 
Hey  ?  Bekase  I  didn't  like  Pete  Jones  nor  Bill  Jones.  They're 
thieves,  dog  on  'em !  " 

Ralph  shivered  a  little.  The  horse  with  the  white  forefoot 
and  white  nose  galloped  before  his  eyes  again. 

"  They're  a  set  of  thieves.     That's  what  they  air." 

"  Please,  Mr.  Pearson,  be  careful.  You'll  get  into  trouble,  you 
know,  by  talking  that  way,"  said  Miss  Hawkins.  "  You're  just 
like  a  man  that  I  knew  at  the  East." 

"  Why,  do  you  think  an  old  soldier  like  me,  hobbling  on  a 
wooden  leg,  is  afraid  of  them  thieves  ?  Didn't  I  face  the  British- 
ers? Didn't  I  come  home  late  last  Wednesday  night  V  I  rather 
guess  I  must  a  took  a  little  too  much  at  Welch's  grocery,  and  laid 
down  in  the  middle  of  the  street  to  rest.  The  boys  thought 
'twas  funny  to  crate  me.  I  woke  up  kind  a  cold,  'bout  one  in 
the  mornin.'  'Bout  two  o'clock  I  come  up  Means's  hill,  and  didn't 
I  see  Pete  Jones,  and  them  others  what  robbed  the  Dutchman, 
and  somebody,  I  dunno  who,  a  crossin'  the  blue-grass  paster 
towards  Jones's? "  (Ralph  shivered.)  " Don't  shake  your  finger  at 
me,  old  woman.  Tongue  is  all  I've  got  to  fight  with  now  ;  but 
I'll  fight  them  thieves  tell  the  sea  goes  dry,  I  will.  Shocky, 
gim  me  a  split." 

"  But  you  wasn't  selfish  when  you  tuck  me."  Shocky  stuck 
to  his  point  most  positively. 

"  Yes,  I  was,  you  little  tow-headed  fool !  I  didn't  take  you 
kase  I  was  good,  not  a  bit  of  it.  I  hated  Bill  Jones  what  keeps ' 
the  poor-house,  and  I  knowed  him  and  Pete  would  get  you 
bound  to  some  of  their  click,  and  I  didn't  want  no  more  thieves 
raised ;  so  when  your  mother  hobbled,  with  you  a  leadin'  her, 
poor  blind  thing!  all  the  way  over  here  on  that  winter  night, 


100  THE    HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

and  said, '  Mr.  Pearson,  you're  all  the  friend  I've  got,  and  I  want 
you  to  save  my  boy,'  why,  you  see  I  was  selfish  as  ever  I  could 
be  in  takin*  of  you.  Your  mother's  cryin'  sot  me  a  cryin'  too. 
We're  all  selfish  in  everything,  akordin'  to  my  tell.  Blamed  ef 
we  ha'n't,  Miss  Hawkins,  only  sometimes  I'd  think  you  was  real 
benev'lent  ef  I  didn't  know  we  war  all  selfish." 


THE  HARDSHELL  PREACHER.  101 


CHAPTER  XIL 

THE    HARDSHELL   PREACHER. 


preachin'  down  to  Bethel  Meetin' -house 
to-day,"  said  the  Squire  at  breakfast.  Twenty 
years  in  the  West  could  not  cure  Squire  Hawkins 
of  saying  "  to  "  for  "  at."  "  I  rather  guess  as  how 
the  ole  man  Bosaw  will  give  pertickeler  fits  to  our 
folks  to-day."  For  Squire  Hawkins,  having  been  expelled  from 
the  "  Hardshell "  church  of  which  Mr.  Bosaw  was  pastor,  for  the 
grave  offense  of  joining  a  temperance  society,  had  become  a  mem- 
ber of  the  "  Reformers,"  the  very  respectable  people  who  now  call 
themselves  "  Disciples,"  but  whom  the  profane  will  persist  hi 
calling  "  Campbellites."  They  had  a  church  in  the  village  of 
Clifty,  three  miles  away. 

I  know  that  explanations  are  always  abominable  to  story 
readers,  as  they  are  to  story  writers,  but  as  so  many  of  my  readers 
have  never  had  the  inestimable  privilege  of  sitting  under  the 
gospel  as  it  is  ministered  in  enlightened  neighborhoods  like  Flat 
Creek,  I  find  myself  under  the  necessity — need-cessity  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Bosaw  would  call  it — of  rising  to  explain.  Some  people 


102  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

think  the  "  Hardshells"  a  myth,  and  some  sensitive  Baptist  people 
at  the  East  resent  all  allusion  to  them.  But  the  "  Hardshell  Bap- 
tists," or,  as  they  are  otherwise  called,  the  "  Whisky  Baptists,"  and 
the  "Forty-gallon  Baptists,"  exist  hi  all  the  old  Western  and 
South-western  States.  They  call  themselves  "Anti-means  Bap- 
tists" from  their  Antinomian  tenets.  Their  confession  of  faith 
is  a  caricature  of  Calvinism,  and  is  expressed  by  their  preachers 
about  as  follows :  "  Ef  you're  elected  you'll  be  saved  ;  ef  you  aVt, 
you'll  be  damned.  God'll  take  keer  of  his  elect.  It's  a  sin  to  run 
Sunday-schools,  or  temp'rince  s'cieties,  or  to  send  missionaries. 
You  let  God's  business  alone.  What  is  to  be  will  be,  and  you 
can't  hender  it."  This  writer  has  attended  a  Sunday-school,  the 
superintendent  of  which  was  solemnly  arraigned  and  expelled 
from  the  Hardshell  Church  for  "  meddling  with  God's  business  " 
by  holding  a  Sunday-school.  Of  course  the  Hardshells  are  pro- 
digiously illiterate,  and  often  vicious.  Some  of  their  preachers 
are  notorious  drunkards.  They  sing  their  sermons  out  sometimes 
for  three  hours  at  a  stretch.  Ralph  found  that  he  was  to  ride  the 
"  clay -bank  mare,"  the  only  one  of  the  horses  that  would  "  carry 
double,"  and  that  consequently  he  would  have — according  to 
Hoosier  custom — to  take  Miss  Hawkins  behind  him.  If  it  had 
been  Hannah  instead,  Ralph  might  not  have  objected  to  this 
"young  Lochinvar  "  mode  of  riding  with  a  lady  on  "  the  croup," 
but  Martha  Hawkins  was  another  affair.  He  had  only  this  con- 
solation :  his  keeping  the  company  of  Miss  Hawkins  might  serve 
to  disarm  the  resentment  of  Bud.  At  all  events,  he  had  no 
choice.  What  designs  the  Squire  had  in  this  arrangement  he 
could  not  tell ;  but  at  any  rate  the  clay-bank  mare  earned  him  to 
meeting  on  that  December  morning,  with  Martha  Hawkins  be- 
hind. And  as  Miss  Hawkins  was  not  used  to  this  mode  of  loco- 


THE  HARDSHELL  PREACHER.  103 

motion,  she  was  in  a  state  of  delightful  fright  every  time  the 
horse  sank  to  the  knees  in  the  soft,  yellow  Flat  Creek  clay. 

"  We  don't  go  to  church  so  at  the  East,"  she  said.  "  The  mud 

isn't  so  deep  at  the  East.  When  1  was  to  Bosting "  but  Ralph 

never  heard  what  happened  when  she  was  to  Bosting,  for  just  as 
she  said  Bosting  the  mare  put  her  foot  into  a  deep  hole  molded 
by  the  foot  of  the  Squire's  horse,  and  already  full  of  muddy 
water.  As  the  mare's  foot  went  twelve  inches  down  into  this 
track,  the  muddy  water  spurted  higher  than  Miss  Hawkins's  head, 
and  mottled  her  dress  with  golden  spots  of  clay.  She  gave  a  little 
shriek,  and  declared  that  she  had  never  "  seen  it  so  at  the  East. " 

The  journey  seemed  a  little  long  to  Ralph,  who  found  that  the 
subjects  upon  which  he  and  Miss  Hawkins  could  converse  were 
few ;  but  Miss  Martha  was  determined  to  keep  things  going,  and 
once,  when  the  conversation  had  died  out  entirely,  she  made  a  des- 
perate effort  to  renew  it  by  remarking,  as  they  met  a  man  on 
horseback,  "  That  horse  switches  his  tail  just  as  they  do  at  the 
East.  When  I  was  to  Bosting  I  saw  horses  switch  their  tails  just 
that  way." 

What  surprised  Ralph  was  to  see  that  Flat  Creek  went  to  meet- 
ing. Everybody  was  there — the  Meanses,  the  Joneses,  the  Bantas, 
and  all  the  rest.  Everybody  on  Flat  Creek  seemed  to  be  there, 
except  the  old  wooden-legged  basket-maker.  His  family  was 
represented  by  Shocky,  who  had  come,  doubtless,  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  Hannah,  not  to  hear  Mr.  Bosaw  preach.  In  fact,  few  were 
thinking  of  the  religious  service.  They  went  to  church  as  a  com- 
mon resort  to  hear  the  news,  and  find  out  what  was  the  current 
iensation. 

On  this  particular  morning  there  seemed  to  be  some  unusual 
excitement  Ralph  perceived  it  as  he  rode  up.  An  excited  crowd, 


104  THE    HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

even  though  it  be  at  a  church-door  on  Sunday  morning,  can  not 
conceal  its  agitation.  Ralph  deposited  Miss  Hawkins  on  the  stile, 
and  then  got  down  himself,  and  paid  her  the  closest  attention  to 
the  door.  This  attention  was  for  Bud's  benefit.  But  Bud  only 
stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  scowling  worse  than  ever. 
Ralph  did  not  go  in  at  the  door.  It  was  not  the  Flat  Creek  cus- 
tom. The  men  gossiped  outside,  while  the  women  chatted  within. 
Whatever  may  have  been  the  cause  of  the  excitement,  Ralph  could 
not  get  at  it.  When  he  entered  a  little  knot  of  people  they  be- 
came embarrassed,  and  the  group  dissolved  itself,  and  its  com- 
ponent parts  joined  other  companies.  What  had  the  current  of 
conversation  to  do  with  him  ?  He  overheard  Pete  Jones  saying 
that  the  blamed  old  wooden  leg  was  in  it  any  how.  He'd  been 
seen  goin'  home  at  two  in  the  mornin'.  And  he  could  name 
somebody  else  ef  he  choosed.  But  it  was  best  to  clean  out  one  at 
a  time.  And  just  then  there  was  a  murmur :  "  Meetin's  took  up." 
And  the  masculine  element  filled  the  empty  half  of  the  "  hewed- 
log"  church. 

When  Ralph  saw  Hannah  looking  utterly  dejected,  his  heart 
smote  him,  and  the  great  struggle  set  in  again.  Had  it  not  been 
for  the  thought  of  the  other  battle,  and  the  comforting  presence 
of  the  Helper,  I  fear  Bud's  interests  would  have  fared  badly.  But 
Ralph,  with  the  spirit  of  a  martyr,  resolved  to  wait  until  he  knew 
what  tho  result  of  Bud's  suit  should  be,  and  whether,  indeed,  the 
young  Goliath  had  prior  claims,  as  he  evidently  thought  he  had. 
He  turned  hopefully  to  the  sermon,  determined  to  pick  up  any 
crumbs  of  comfort  that  might  fall  from  Mr.  Bosaw's  meager 
table. 

In  reporting  a  single  specimen  passage  of  Mr.  Bosaw's  sermon, 
I  shall  not  take  the  liberty  which  Thucydides  and  other  ancient 


THE  HARDSHELL  PREACHER.  105 

historians  did,  of  making  tlie  sermon  and  putting  it  in  the  hero'a 
mouth,  but  shall  give  tliat  which  can  be  vouched  for. 

"  You  see,  my  respective  hearers,"  he  began  —  but  alas !  I  can 
never  picture  to  you  the  rich  red  nose,  the  see-sawing  gestures, 
the  nasal  resonance,  the  sniffle,  the  melancholy  minor  key,  and 
all  that.  "  My  respective  hearers-ah,  you  see-ah  as  how-ah  as 
my  tex'-ah  says  that  the  ox-ah  knoweth  his  owner-ah,  and-ah  the 
ass-ah  his  master's  crib-ah.  A-h-h  !  Now,  my  respective  hearers- 
ah,  they're  a  mighty  sight  of  rescmblance-ah  atwext  men-ah  and 
oxen-ah "  [Ralph  could  net  help  reflecting  that  there  was  a 
mighty  sight  of  resemblance  between  some  men  and  asses.  But 
the  preacher  did  not  see  this  analogy.  It  lay  too  close  to  him], 
"  bekase-ah,  you  see,  men-ah  is  mighty  like  oxen-ah.  Fer  they's 
a  tremengious  defference-ah  atwixt  defferent  oxen-ah,  jest  as  thar 
is  atwext  dcfferent  men-ah ;  fer  the  ox  knoweth-ah  his  owner-ah, 
and  the  ass-ah,  his  master's  crib-ah.  Now,  my  respective  hearers- 
ah  "  [the  preacher's  voice  here  grew  mellow,  and  the  succeeding 
sentences  were  hi  the  most  pathetic  and  lugubrious  voice],  "  you 
all  know-ah  that  your  humble  speaker-ah  has  got- ah  jest  the 
best  yoke  of  steers-ah  in  this  to wnship-ah. "  [Here  Betsey  Short 
shook  the  floor  with  a  suppressed  titter.]  "  They  a'n't  no  sech 
steers  as  them  air  two  of  mine-ah  in  this  whole  kedentry-ah. 
Them  crack  oxen  over  at  Clifty-ah  ha'n't  a  patchin'  to  mine-ah. 
Fer  the  ox  knoweth  his  owner-ah,  and  the  ass-ah  his  master's 
crib-ah. 

"  Now,  my  respective  hearers-ah,  they's  a  right  smart  sight  cf 
defference-ah  atwext  them  air  two  oxen-ah,  jest  like  they  is  atwext 
defferent  men-ah.  Fer-ah  "  [here  the  speaker  grew  earnest,  and 
sawed  the  air,  from  this  to  the  close,  in  a  most  frightful  way], 
"  fer-ah,  you  see-ah,  when  I  go  out-ah  hi  the  mornm'-ah  to  yoke- 


106 


THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 


ah  up  ah  them  air  steers-ah,  and  I  says-ah,  '  Wo,  Berry-ah !  Wo 
Berry-ah!  Wo,  BERRY-AH!  '  why  Berry-ah  jest  stands  stock  still- 
ah  and  don't  hardly  breathe-ah  while  I  put  on  the  yoke-ah,  and 
put  hi  the  bow-ah,  and  put  in  the  key-ah,  fer,  my  brethering-ah 


bis 


"  COME,  BUCK-  AH  ! 

and  sistering-ah,  the  ox  knoweth  his  owner-ah,  and  th& 
master's  crib-ah.    Hal-le-lu-ger-ah  ! 

"But-ah,  my  hearers-ah,  but-ah  when  I  stand  at  t'other  eend 
of  the  yoke-ah,  and  say,  'Come,  Buck-ah  !  Come,  Buck-ah! 
COME,  BUCK-AH  !  COME,  BUCK-AH  !  '  why  what  do  you  think- 
ab?  Buck-ah,  that  ornery  ole  Buck-ah,  'stid  of  comin'  right 


THE  HARDSHELL  PREACHER.  107 

along-ah  and  puttin'  his  neck  under-ah,  acts  jest  like  some  men-ah 
what  is  fools-ah.  Buck-ah  jest  kinder  sorter  stands  off-ah,  and 
kinder  sort  puts  his  head  down-ah  this  ere  way-ah,  and  kinder 
looks  mad-ah,  and  says,  Boo-oooo-OO-a/*  /  " 

Alas  !  Hartsook  found  no  spiritual  edification  there,  and  he  was 
in  no  mood  to  be  amused.  And  so,  while  the  sermon  drew 
on  through  two  dreary  hours,  he  forgot  the  preacher  in  noticing 
a  bright  green  lizard  which,  having  taken  up  its  winter  quarters 
behind  the  tin  candlestick  that  hung  just  back  of  the  preacher's 
head,  had  been  deceived  by  the  genial  warmth  coming  from  the 
great  box-stove,  and  now  ran  out  two  or  three  feet  from  his  shel- 
ter, looking  down  upon  the  red-nosed  preacher  in  a  most  confiden- 
tial and  amusing  manner.  Sometimes  he  would  retreat  behind 
the  candlestick,  which  was  not  twelve  inches  from  the  preacher's 
head,  and  then  rush  out  again.  At  each  reappearance  Betsey 
Short  would  stuff  her  handkerchief  into  her  mouth  and  shake  in 
a  most  distressing  way.  Shocky  wondered  what  the  lizard  was 
winking  at  the  preacher  about.  And  Miss  Martha  thought  that 
it  reminded  her  of  a  lizard  that  she  see  at  the  East,  the  time  she 
was  to  Bosting,  in  ajar  of  alcohol  in  the  Natural  History  Rooms. 

The  Squire  was  not  disappointed  in  his  anticipation  that  Mr. 
Bosaw  would  attack  his  denomination  with  some  fury.  In  fact, 
the  old  preacher  outdid  himself  in  his  violent  indignation  at 
"these  people  that  follow  Campbell-ah,  that  thinks-ah  that  o"bc- 
jience-ah  will  save  'em-ah,  and  that  belongs-ah  to  temp'rince 
societies-ah  and  Sunday-schools-ah,  and  them  air  things-ah,  that's 
not  ortherized  in  the  Bible-ah,  but  comes  of  the  devil-ah,  and 
fokes  folks  as  belongs  to  'em  to  hell-ah." 

As  they  came  out  the  door  Rulph  rallied  enough  to  remarks 
u  He  did  attack  your  people,  Squire." 


108  THE     BOOSTER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  Oh  !  yes,"  said  the  Squire.  "  Didn't  you  see  the  Sarpent  in- 
spirin'  him  ?  " 

But  when  the  long,  long  hours  were  ended  Ralph  got  on  the 
clay-bank  mare  and  rode  up  alongside  the  stile  whence  Miss 
Martha  mounted.  And  as  he  went  away  with  a  heavy  heart,  he 
overheard  Pete  Jones  call  out  to  somebody : 

"We'll  tend  to  his  case  a  Christmas."  Christmas  was  two 
days  off. 

And  Miss  Martha  remarked  with  much  trepidation  that  poor 
Pearson  would  have  to  leave.  She'd  always  been  afraid  that 
would  be  the  end  of  it.  It  reminded  her  of  something  she  heard 
at  the  East  the  time  she  was  down  to  Bosting. 


A  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  MASTERY.          109 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

A  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  MASTERY. 

r-/HE  school  closed  on  Monday  evening  as  usual. 
The  boys  had  been  talking  in  knots  all  day. 
Nothing  but  the  bull-dog  in  the  slender,  resolute 
young  master  had  kept  down  the  rising  storm.  Let 
a  teacher  lose  moral  support  at  home,  and  he  can  not 
long  govern  a  school.  Ralph  had  effectually  lost  his  popularity 
in  the  district,  and  the  worst  of  it  was  that  he  could  not  divine 
from  iust  what  quarter  the  ill  wind  came,  except  that  he  felt 
sure  of  Small's  agency  in  it  somewhere.  Even  Hannah  had 
slighted  him,  when  he  called  at  Means's  on  Monday  morning  to 
draw  the  pittance  Of  pay  that  was  due  him. 

He  had  expected  a  petition  for  a  holiday  on  Christmas  day. 
Such  holidays  are  deducted  from  the  teacher's  time,  and  it  is 
customary  for  the  boys  to  "  turn  out "  the  teacher  who  refuses 
to  grant  them,  by  barring  him  out  of  the  school-house  on  Christ- 
mas and  New  Year's  morning.  Ralph  had  intended  to  grant  a 
holiday  if  it  should  be  asked,  but  it  was  not  asked.  Hank  Banta 
was  the  ringleader  in  the  disaffection,  and  he  had  managed  to 
draw  the  surly  Bud,  who  was  present  this  morning,  into  it.  It 
is  but  fair  to  say  that  Bud  was  in  favor  of  making  a  request  before 
resorting  to  extreme  measures,  but  he  was  overruled.  He  gave 


HO  THE    HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

it  as  his  solemn  opinion  that  the  mcjster  was  mighty  peart,  and 
they  would  be  beat  any  how  some  way,  but  he  would  lick  the 
master  fer  two  cents  ef  he  warn't  so  slim  that  he'd  feel  like  he 
was  fighting  a  baby. 

And  all  that  day  things  looked  black.  Ralph's  countenance 
was  cold  and  hard  as  stone,  and  Shocky  trembled  where  he  sat 
in  front  of  him.  Betsey  Short  tittered  rather  more  than  usual. 
A  riot  or  a  murder  would  have  seemed  amusing  to  her. 

School  was  dismissed,  and  Ralph,  instead  of  returning  to  the 
Squire's,  set  out  for  the  village  of  Clifty  a  few  miles  away.  No 
one  knew  what  he  went  for,  and  some  suggested  that  he  had 
"sloped."  But  Bud  said  "he  warn't  that  air  kind.  He  was 
one  of  them  ah*  sort  as  died  in  ther  tracks,  was  Mr.  Hartsook. 
They'd  find  him  on  the  ground  nex'  morning,  and  he  'lowed 
the  master  war  made  of  that  air  sort  of  stuff  as  would  burn  the 
dog-on'd  ole  school-house  to  ashes,  or  blow  it  into  splinters,  but 
what  he'd  beat.  Howsumdever  he'd  said  he  was  a-goin'  to  help, 
and  help  he  would;  but  all  the  sinnoo  in  Golier  wouldn'  be  no 
account  agin  the  cute  they  was  in  the  head  of  the  master." 

But  Bud,  discouraged  as  he  was  with  the  fear  of  Ralph's 
"  cute,"  went  like  a  martyr  to  the  stake  and  took  his  place  with 
the  rest  in  the  school-house  at  nine  o'clock  at  night.  It  may  have 
been  Ralph's  intention  to  have  preoccupied  the  school-house,  for 
at  ten  o'clock  Hank  Banta  was  set  shaking  from  head  to  foot 
at  seeing  a  face  that  looked  like  the  master's  at  the  window.  He 
waked  up  Bud  and  told  him  about  it. 

"  Well,  what  are  you  a-tremblin'  about,  you  coward  ?  "  growled 
Bud.  "  He  won't  shoot  you ;  but  he'll  beat  you  at  this  game,  I'll 
bet  a  hoss,  and  me,  too,  and  make  us  both  as  'shamed  of  our- 
selves as  dogs  with  tin-kittles  to  their  tails.  You  don't  know  the 


A  STRUGGLE  FOB  THE  MASTERY.          Ill 

master,  though  he  did  duck  you.  But  he'll  larn  you  a  good  lesson 
this  time,  and  me  too,  like  as  not."  And  Bud  soon  snored  again, 
but  Hank  shook  with  fear  every  time  he  looked  at  the  blackness 
outside  the  windows.  He  was  sure  he  heard  foot-falls.  He 
would  have  given  anything  to  have  been  at  home. 

When  morning  came,  the  pupils  began  to  gather  early.  A  few 
boys  who  were  likely  to  prove  of  service  in  the  coming  siege  were 
admitted  through  the  window,  and  then  everything  was  made  fast, 
and  a  "  snack  "  was  eaten. 

"  How  do  you  'low  he'll  git  in  ?  "  said  Hank,  trying  to  hide  his 
fear. 

"  How  do  I  'low  ?  "  said  Bud.  "  I  don't  'low  nothin'  about  it. 
You  might  as  well  ax  me  where  I  'low  the  nex'  shootin'  star  is 
a-goin'  to  drap.  Mr.  Hartsook's  mighty  onsartin.  But  he'll  git 
in,  though,  and  tan  your  hide  fer  you,  you  see  ef  he  don't.  Ef 
he  don't  blow  up  the  school-house  with  gunpowder!"  This  last 
was  thrown  in  by  way  of  alleviating  the  fears  of  the  cowardly 
Hank,  for  whom  Bud  had  a  great  contempt. 

The  time  for  school  had  almost  come.  The  boys  inside  were 
demoralized  by  waiting.  They  began  to  hope  that  the  master  had 
"  sloped."  They  dreaded  to  see  him  coming. 

"  I  don't  believe  he'll  come,"  said  Hank,  with  a  cold  shiver. 
"It's  past  school-time." 

"  Yes,  he  will  come,  too,"  said  Bud.  "  And  he  'lows  to  come  in 
here  mighty  quick.  I  don't  know  how.  But  he'll  be  a-standin' 
at  that  air  desk  when  it's  nine  o'clock.  I'll  bet  a  thousand  dol- 
lars on  that.  Ef  he  don't  take  it  into  his  head  to  blow  us  up!" 
Hank  was  now  white. 

Some  of  the  parents  came  along,  accidentally  of  course,  and 
stopped  to  see  the  fun,  sure  that  Bud  would  thrash  the  master  if 


112  THE     HOOSIEK     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

he  tried  to  break  in.  Small,  on  the  way  to  see  a  patient  perhaps, 
reined  up  hi  front  of  the  door.  Still  no  Ralph.  It  was  just  five 
minutes  before  nine.  A  rumor  now  gained  currency  that  he  had 
been  seen  going  to  Clifty  the  evening  before,  and  that  he  had  not 
come  back,  though  in  fact  Ralph  had  come  back,  and  had  slept 
at  Squire  Hawkins's. 

"  There's  the  master,"  cried  Betsey  Short,  who  stood  out  in 
the  road,  shivering  and  giggling  alternately.  For  Ralph  at  that 
moment  emerged  from  the  sugar-camp  by  the  school-house,  car- 
rying a  board. 

"  Ho  !  ho ! "  laughed  Hank,  "  he  thinks  he'll  smoke  us  out.  I 
guess  he'll  find  us  ready."  The  boys  had  let  the  fire  burn  down, 
and  there  was  now  nothing  but  hot  hickory  coals  on  the  hearth. 

"  I  tell  you  he'll  come  in.  He  didn't  go  to  Clifty  fer  nothin'," 
said  Bud,  who  sat  still  on  one  of  the  benches  which  leaned  against 
the  door.  "  I  don't  know  how,  but  they's  lots  of  ways  of  killing  a 
cat  besides  chokin'  her  with  butter.  He'll  come  in — ef  he  don't 
blow  us  all  sky-high!" 

Ralph's  voice  was  now  heard,  demanding  that  the  door  be 
opened. 

"  Let's  open  her,"  said  Hank,  turning  livid  with  fear  at  the  firm, 
confident  tone  of  the  master. 

Bud  straightened  himself  up.  "  Hank,  you're  a  coward.  I've 
got  a  mind  to  kick  you.  You  got  me  into  this  blamed  mess,  and 
now  you  want  to  flunk.  Tou  jest  tech  one  of  these  ere  fasten- 
ings, and  I'll  lay  you  out  flat  of  your  back  afore  you  can  say 
Jack  Robinson." 

The  teacher  was  climbing  to  the  roof  with  the  board  in  hand. 

"That  air  won*t  win,"  laughed  Pete  Jones  outside.  He  saw 
that  there  was  no  smoke.  Even  Bud  began  to  hope  that  Ralph 


A    STRUGGLE    FOB   THE    MASTERY.  113 

would  fail  for  once.  The  master  was  now  on  the  ridge-pole  of 
the  school-house.  He  took  a  paper  from  his  pocket,  and  delib- 
erately poured  the  contents  down  the  chimney. 

Mr.  Pete  Jones  shouted  "Gunpowder!"  and  started  down  the 
road  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  explosion.    Dr.  Small  remem- 


FIBE  AND  BRIMSTONE. 

bered,  probably,  that  his  patient  might  die  while  he  sat  there,  and 
started  on. 

But  Ralph  emptied  the  paper,  and  laid  the  board  over  the  chim- 
ney. What  a  row  there  was  inside!  The  benches  that  were 
braced  against  the  door  were  thrown  down,  and  Hank  Banta 


114  THE    HOOSIEE    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

rushed  out,  nibbing  his  eyes,  coughing  frantically,  and  sure  that 
he  had  been  blown  up.  All  the  rest  followed,  Bud  bringing  up 
the  rear  sulkily,  but  coughing  and  sneezing  for  dear  life.  Such 
a  smell  of  sulphur  as  came  from  that  school-house  ! 

Betsey  had  to  lean  against  the  fence  to  giggle. 

As  soon  as  all  were  out,  Ralph  threw  the  board  off  the  chimney, 
leaped  to  the  ground,  entered  the  school-house,  and  opened  the 
windows.  The  school  soon  followed  him,  and  all  was  still. 

"  Would  he  thrash  ? "  This  was  the  important  question  in 
Hank  Banta's  mind.  And  the  rest  looked  for  a  battle  with  Bud. 

"  It  is  just  nine  o'clock,"  said  Ralph,  consulting  his  watch,  "  and 
I'm  glad  to  see  you  all  here  promptly.  I  should  have  given  you  a 
holiday  if  you  had  asked  me  like  gentlemen  yesterday.  On  the 
whole,  I  think  I  shall  give  you  a  holiday,  any  how.  The  school 
is  dismissed." 

And  Hank  felt  foolish. 

And  Bud  secretly  resolved  to  thrash  Hank  or  the  master,  he 
didn't  care  which. 

And  Mirandy  looked  the  love  she  could  not  utter. 

And  Betsey  giggled. 


CRISIS   WITH   BUD. 


115 


CHAPTER    XIV. 


A     CRISIS     WITH     BUD. 

ALPH  sat  stUl  at  his  desk.  The  school  had 
gone.  All  at  once  he  became  conscious  that 
Shocky  sat  yet  in  his  accustomed  place  upon 
the  hard,  backless  bench. 

"  Why,  Shocky,  haven't  you  gone  yet  ?  " 
"No  —  sir — I   was    waitin'    to    see   if   you    warn't    agoin', 
too— I — " 
"Well?" 

"  I  thought  it  would  make  me  feel  as  if  God  warn't  quite  so 
fur  away  to  talk  to  you.  It  did  the  other  day." 

The  master  rose  and  put  his  hand  on  Shocky's  head.  Was  it 
the  brotherhood  hi  affliction  that  made  Shocky's  words  choke 
him  so  ?  Or,  was  it  the  weird  thoughts  that  he  expressed  ?  Or, 
was  it  the  recollection  that  Shocky  was  Hannah's  brother? 
Hannah — so  far,  far  away  from  him  now !  At  any  rate,  Shocky, 
looking  up  for  the  smile  on  which  he  fed,  saw  the  relaxing  of 
the  master's  face,  that  had  been  as  hard  as  stone,  and  felt  just  ona 
hot  tear  on  his  hand. 


116  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  PYaps  God's  forgot  you,  too,"  said  Shocky  in  a  sort  of  half- 
soliloquy.  "  Better  get  away  from  Flat  Creek.  You  see  God 
forgets  everybody  down  litre.  'Cause  'most  everybody  forgets 
trod,  'cept  Mr.  Bosaw,  and  I  'low  God  don't  no  ways  keer  to  be 
remembered  by  sick  as  him.  Leastways  I  wouldn't  if  I  was  God, 
you  know.  I  wonder  what  becomes  of  folks  when  God  forgets 
'em  ?  "  And  Shocky,  seeing  that  the  master  had  resumed  Lis  seat 
and  was  looking  absently  into  the  fire,  moved  slowly  out  the  door. 

"  Shocky ! "  called  the  master. 

The  little  poet  came  back  and  stood  before  him. 

"  Shocky,  you  mustn't  think  God  has  forgotten  you.  God 
brings  things  out  right  at  last."  But  Ralph's  own  faith  was  weak, 
and  his  words  sounded  hollow  and  hypocritical  to  himself. 
Would  God  indeed  bring  things  out  right? 

He  sat  musing  a  good  while,  trying  to  convince  himself  of  the 
truth  of  what  he  had  just  been  saying  to  Shocky — that  God 
would  indeed  bring  things  out  right  at  last.  Would  it  all  come 
out  right  if  Bud  married  Hannah  ?  Would  it  all  come  out  right 
if  he  were  driven  from  Flat  Creek  with  a  dark  suspicion  upon  his 
character?  Did  God  concern  himself  with  these  things?  Was 
there  any  God?  It  was  the  same  old  struggle  between  Doubt 
and  Faith.  And  when  Ralph  looked  up,  Shocky  had  departed. 

In  the  next  hour  Ralph  fought  the  old  battle  of  Armageddon. 
I  shall  not  describe  it.  You  will  fight  it  in  your  own  way.  No 
two  alike.  The  important  thing  is  the  End.  If  you  come  out  as 
he  did,  with  the  doubt  gone  and  the  trust  in  God  victorious,  it 
matters  little  just  what  shape  the  battle  may  take.  Since  Jacob 
became  Israel  there  have  never  been  two  such  struggles  alike, 
save  in  that  they  all  end  either  in  victory  or  defeat. 

It  was  after  twelve  o'clock  on  that  Christmas  day  when  Ralph 


A    CRISIS    WITH    BUD.  117 

put  his  head  out  the  door  of  the  school-house  and  called  out: 
"  Bud,  I'd  like  to  see  you." 

Bud  did  not  care  to  see  the  master,  for  he  had  inly  resolved  to 
"  thrash  him "  and  have  done  with  him.  But  he  couldn't  back 
out,  certainly  not  in  sight  of  the  others  who  were  passing  along 
the  road  with  him. 


BUD. 

"  I  don't  want  the  rest  of  you,"  said  Ralph  in  a  decided  way,  as 
he  saw  that  Hank  and  one  or  two  others  were  resolved  to  come 
also. 

"Thought  may  be  you'd  want  somebody  to  see  far  play," 
said  Hank  as  he  went  off  sheepishly. 

"  If  I  did,  you  would  be  the  last  one  I  should  ask,"  said  Ralph. 
"  There's  no  unfair  play  in  Bud,  and  there  is  hi  you."  And  he 
3hut  the  door. 

"  Now,  looky  here,  Mr.  Ralph  Hartsook,"   said  Bud.     "  You 


]18  THE    BOOSTER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

don't  some  no  gum  games  over  me  with  your  saft  sodder  and  all 
that  I'ye  made  up  my  mind.  You've  got  to  promise  to  leave 
these  ere  diggins,  or  I've  got  tc  Ihrash  you." 

"  You'll  have  to  thrash  me,  then,"  said  Ralph,  turning  a  little 
pale,  but  remembering  the  bull-dog.  "  But  you'll  tell  me  what 
it's  all  about,  won't  you  ?  " 

"You  know  well  enough.  Folks  says  you  know  more  'bout 
the  robbery  at  the  Dutchman's  than  you  orter.  But  I  don't  be- 
lieve them.  Per  them  as  says  it  is  liars  and  thieves  theirselves. 
'Ta'n't  fer  none  of  that.  And  I  shan't  tell  you  what  it  is  fer.  So 
now,  if  you  won't  travel,  why,  take  off  your  coat  and  git  ready  fer 
a  thrashing." 

The  master  took  off  his  coat  and  showed  his  slender  arms. 
Bud  laid  his  off,  and  showed  the  physique  of  a  prize-fighter. 

"  You  a'n't  a-goin  to  fight  me  f  "  said  Bud. 

"  Not  unless  you  make  me." 

"  Why  I  could  chaw  you  all  up." 

"  I  know  that." 

"  Well,  you're  the  grittiest  feller  I  ever  did  see,  and  ef  you'd 
jest  kep  off  of  my  ground  I  wouldn't  a-touched  you.  But  I  a'n't 
agoin'  to  be  cut  out  by  no  feller  a  livin'  'thout  thrashin'  him 
hi  an  inch  of  his  life.  You  see  I  wanted  to  git  out  of  this  Flat 
Crick  way.  We're  a  low-lived  set  here  in  Flat  Crick.  And  I 
says  to  myself,  I'll  try  to  be  somethin'  more  nor  Pete  Jones,  and 
dad,  and  these  other  triflin',  good-fer-northin'  ones  'bout  here. 
And  when  you  come  I  says,  There's  one  as'il  help  me.  And 
what  do  you  do  with  your  book-larnin'  and  town  manners  but 
start  right  out  to  git  away  the  gal  that  I'd  picked  out,  when  I'd 
picked  her  out  kase  I  thought,  not  bein'  Flat  Crick  born  herself, 
ahe  might  help  a  feller  to  do  better  I  l^ow  \  won't  let  nobody 


A   CRISIS   WITH    BUD.  119 

cut  me  out  without  givin'  'em  the  best  thrashin'it's  hi  these  'ere 
arms  to  give." 

"  But  I  haven't  tried  to  cut  you  out." 

"  You  can't  fool  me." 

"  Bud,  listen  to  me,  and  then  thrash  me  if  you  will.  I  went 
with  that  girl  once.  When  I  found  you  had  some  claims,  I  gave 
her  up.  Not  because  I  was  afraid  of  you,  for  I  would  rather 
have  taken  the  worst  thrashing  you  can  give  me  than  give  her 
up.  But  I  haven't  spoken  to  her  since  the  night  of  the  first 
spelling-school." 

"  You  lie  1 "  said  Bud,  doubling  his  fists. 

Ralph  grew  red. 

"  You  was  a-waitin'  on  her  last  Sunday  right  afore  my  eyes, 
and  a-tryin'  to  ketch  my  attention  too.  So  when  you're  ready, 
say  so." 

"  Bud,  there  is  some  misunderstanding."  Hartsook  spoke 
slowly  and  felt  bewildered.  "  I  tell  you  that  I  did  not  speak  to 
Hannah  last  Sunday,  and  you  know  I  didn't." 

"  Hanner  !  "  Bud's  eyes  grew  large.  "  Hanner  ! "  Here  he 
gasped  for  breath,  and  looked  around.  "  Hanner!"  He  couldn't 
get  any  further  than  the  name  at  first,  "  Why,  plague  take  it, 
who  said  Hanner  ?  " 

"  Mirandy  said  you  were  courting  Hannah,"  said  Ralph,  feeling 
round  in  a  vague  way  to  get  his  ideas  together. 

"  Mirandy  !  Thunder !  You  believed  Mirandy  !  Well !  Now ' 
looky  here,  Mr.  Hartsook,  ef  you  was  to  say  that  my  sister  lied, 
I'd  lick  you  till  yer  hide  wouldn'  hold  shucks.  But  /  say,  atwixt 
you  and  me  and  the  gate-post,  don't  you  never  believe  nothing 
that  Mirandy  Means  says.  Her  and  marm  has  set  theirselves 
like  fools  to  git  you.  Hanner !  Well,  she's  a  mighty  nice  gal, 


120  THE    HOOSIEB    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

but  you're  welcome  to  her.  I  never  tuck  no  shine  that  air  way. 
But  I  was  out  of  school  last  Thursday  and  Friday  a  shucking  corn 
to  take  to  mill  a  Saturday.  And  when  I  come  past  the  Squire's 
and  seed  you  talking  to  a  gal  as  is  a  gal,  you  know  " — here  Bud 
hesitated  and  looked  foolish — "  I  felt  hoppin'  mad." 

Bud  put  on  his  coat. 

Kalph  put  on  his  coat. 

Then  they  shook  hands  and  Bud  went  out.  Ralph  sat  looking 
into  the  fire.  There  was  no  conscientious  difficulty  now  in  the 
way  of  his  claiming  Hannah.  The  dry  forestick  lying  on  the 
rude  stone  andirons  burst  into  a  blaze.  The  smoldering  hope  hi 
the  heart  of  Ralph  Hartsook  did  the  same.  He  could  have 
Hannah  if  he  could  win  her.  But  there  came  slowly  back  the 
recollection  of  his  lost  standing  in  Flat  Creek.  There  was  cir- 
cumstantial evidence  ajainst  him.  It  was  evident  that  Hannah 
believed  something  of  this.  What  other  stories  Small  may  have 
put  in  circulation  he  did  not  know.  Would  Small  try  to  win 
Hannah's  love,  to  throw  it  away  again,  as  he  had  done  with 
others  ?  At  bast  he  would  not  spare  any  pains  to  turn  the  heart 
of  the  bound  girl  against  Ralph. 

The  bright  flame  on  the  forestick  which  Ralph  liad  been  watch- 
ing flickered  and  burned  low. 


THE   CHUBCH    OF  THE   BEST   LICKS.  121 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE    CHURCH   OF    THE   BEST   LICKS. 


as  the  flame  on  the  forestick,  which  Ralph 
had  watched  so  intensely,  flickered  and  burned 
low,  and  just  as  Ralph  with  a  heavy  but  nofc  quite 
hopeless  heart  rose  to  leave,  the  latch  lifted  and  Bud 
re-entered. 

"I  wanted  to  say  something,"  he  stammered,  "but  you  know 
it's  hard  to  say  it.  I  ha'n't  no  book-larnin'  to  speak  of,  and  some 
things  is  hard  to  say  when  a  man  ha'n't  got  book-words  to  say 
'em  with.  And  they's  some  things  a  man  can't  hardly  ever  say 
any  how  to  anybody." 

Here  Bud  stopped.  But  Ralph  spoke  in  such  a  matter-of-course 
way  in  reply  that  he  felt  encouraged  to  go  on. 

"  You  gin  up  Hanner  kase  you  thought  she  belonged  to  me. 
That's  more'n  I'd  a  done  by  a  long  shot.  Now,  arter  I  left  here 
jest  now,  I  says  to  myself,  a  man  what  can  gin  up  his  gal  on 
account  of  sech  a  feeling  fer  the  rights  of  a  Flat  Cricker  like  me, 
why,  dog  on  it,  says  I,  sech  a  man  is  the  man  as  can  help  me  do 
better.  I  don't  know  whether  you're  a  Hardshell  or  a  Saftshell, 
or  a  Methodi«t,  or  a  Campbellite,  or  a  New  Light,  or  a  United 


182  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Brother,  or  a  Millerite,  or  what  not.  But  I  says,  the  man 
what  can  do  the  clean  thing  by  a  ugly  feller  like  me.  and  stick 
to  it,  when  I  was  jest  ready  to  eat  him  up,  is  a  kind  of  a  man 
to  tie  to." 

Here  Bud  stopped  in  fright  at  his  own  volubility,  for  he  had 
run  his  words  off  like  a  piece  learned  by  heart,  as  though  afraid 
that  if  he  stopped  he  would  not  have  courage  to  go  on. 

Kalph  said  that  he  did  not  yet  belong  to  any  church,  and  he 
was  afraid  he  couldn't  do  Bud  much  good.  But  his  tone  was 
full  of  sympathy,  and,  what  is  better  than  sympathy,  a  yearning 
for  sympathy. 

"  You  see,"  said  Bud,  "  I  wanted  to  git  out  of  this  low-lived, 
Flat  Crick  way  of  livin'.  We're  a  hard  set  down  here,  Mr. 
Hartsook.  And  I'm  gittin'  to  be  one  of  the  hardest  of  'em.  But 
I  never  could  git  no  good  out  of  Bosaw  with  his  whisky  and 
meanness.  And  I  went  to  the  Mount  Tabor  church  oncet.  I 
heard  a  man  discussin'  baptism,  and  regeneration,  and  so  on. 
That  didn't  seem  no  cure  for  me.  I  went  to  a  revival  over  at 
Clifty.  Well,  'twarnt  no  use.  First  night  they  was  a  man  that 
spoke  about  Jesus  Christ  in  sech  a  way  that  I  wanted  to  follcr 
him  everywhere.  But  I  didn't  feel  fit.  Next  night  I  come  back 
with  my  mind  made  up  that  I'd  try  Jesus  Christ,  and  see  cf 
he'd  have  me.  But  laws !  they  was  a  big  man  that  night  that 
preached  hell.  Not  that  I  don't  believe  they's  a  hell.  They's 
plenty  not  a  thousand  miles  away  as  deserves  it,  and  I  don't 
know  as  I'm  too  good  for  it  myself.  But  he  pitched  it  at  us,  and 
stuck  it  in  our  faces  in  sech  a  way  that  I  got  mad.  And  I  says, 
Well,  ef  God  sends  me  to  hell  he  can't  make  me  holler  'nough 
no  how.  You  see  my  dander  was  up.  And  when  my  dander's 
up,  I  wouldn't  gin  up  fer  the  devil  hisself.  The  preacher  was  so 


THE    CHURCH    OF   THE    BEST   LICKS.  123 

Insultin'  with  bis  way  of  doin'  it.  He  seemed  to  be  kind  of  glad 
that  we  was  to  be  damned,  and  he  preached  somethin'  like 
some  folks  swears.  It  didn't  sound  a  bit  like  the  Christ  the 
little  man  preached  about  the  night  afore.  So  what  does  me 
and  a  lot  of  fellers  do  but  slip  out  and  cut  off  the  big  preacher's 
stirrups,  and  hang  them  on  to  the  rider  of  the  fence,  and  then 
set  his  hoss  loose !  And  from  that  day,  sometimes  I  did,  and 
sometimes  I  didn't,  want  to  be  better.  And  to-day  it  seemed  to 
me  that  you  must  know  somethin'  as  would  help  me." 

Nothing  is  worse  than  a  religious  experience  kept  ready  to  be 
exposed  to  the  gaze  of  everybody,  whether  the  time  is  appropriate 
or  not.  But  never  was  a  religious  experience  more  appropriate 
than  the  account  which  Ralph  gave  to  Bud  of  his  Struggle  in 
the  Dark.  The  confession  of  his  weakness  and  wicked  selfishness 
was  a  great  comfort  to  Bud. 

"  Do  you  think  that  Jesus  Christ  would — would — well,  do  you 
think  he'd  help  a  poor,  unlarnt  Flat  Cricker  like  me  ?" 

"  I  think  he  was  a  sort  of  a  Flat  Creeker  himself,"  said  Ralph, 
slowly  and  very  earnestly. 

"  You  don't  say  ?"  said  Bud,  almost  getting  off  his  seat. 

"  Why,  you  see  the  town  he  lived  in  was  a  rough  place.  It 
was  called  Nazareth,  which  meant  '  Bushtown.' " 

"You  don't  say V" 

"  And  he  was  called  a  NazareDe.  which  was  about  the  same  as 
'  backwoodsman.' " 

And  Ralph  read  the  different  passages  which  he  had  studied  at 
Sunday-school,  illustrating  the  condescension  of  Jesus,  the  stories 
of  the  i  u'jlicans,  the  harlots,  the  poor,  who  came  to  him.  And 
he  read  about  Nathanael,  who  lived  only  six  miles  away,  saying 
"  Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?  " 


124 


THE    HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 


"  Jus<  tthat  Clifty  folks  says  about  Flat  Crick,"  broke  in  Bud. 

"  DC-  you.  think  I  could  begin  without  being  baptized  ? "  he 
presently. 

"Why  not?  Let's  begin  now  to  do  the  best  we  can,  by  his 
p-lp." 

"  You  mean,  then,  that  I'm  to  begin  now  to  put  in  my  best  licks 
or  Jesus  Christ,  and  that  he'll  help  me  ?  " 


THE     CHUBCH     OP     THE    BEST     LICKS. 

This  shocked  Ralph's  veneration  a  little.  But  it  was  the  sincere 
utterance  of  an  earnest  soul.  It  may  not  have  been  an  orthodox 
start,  but  it  was  the  one  start  for  Bud.  And  there  be  those  who 
have  repeated  with  the  finest  aesthetic  appreciation  the  old  Eng- 
lish liturgies  who  have  never  known  religious  aspiration  so  sincere 


THE    CHURCH    OP   THE    BEST   LICKS.  125 

as  that  of  this  ignorant  young  Hercules,  whose  best  confession 
was  that  he  meant  hereafter  "  to  put  hi  his  best  licks  for  Jesus 
Christ."  And  there  be  those  who  can  define  repentance  and  faith 
to  the  turning  of  a  hair  who  never  made  so  genuine  a  start  for 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  as  Bud  Means  did. 

Ralph  said  yes,  that  he  thought  that  wras  just  it.  At  least, 
he  guessed  if  there  was  something  more,  the  man  that  was 
putting  in  his  best  licks  would  be  sure  to  find  it  out. 

"  Do  you  think  he'd  help  a  feller  ?  Seems  to  me  it  would  be 
number  one  to  have  God  help  you.  Not  to  help  you  fight  other 
folks,  but  to  help  you  when  it  comes  to  fighting  the  devil  inside. 
But  you  see  I  don't  belong  to  no  church." 

"  Well,  let's  you  and  me  have  one  right  off.  Two  people  that 
help  one  another  to  serve  God  make  a  church." 

I  am  afraid  this  ecclesiastical  theory  will  not  be  considered 
orthodox.  It  was  Ralph's,  and  I  write  it  down  at  the  risk  of 
bringing  him  into  condemnation. 

But  other  people  before  the  days  of  Bud  and  Ralph  have  dis- 
cussed church  organization  when  they  should  have  been  doing 
Christian  work.  For  both  of  them  had  forgotten  the  danger  that 
hung  over  the  old  basket-maker,  until  Shocky  burst  into  the 
school-house,  weeping.  Indeed,  the  poor,  nervous  little  frame 
was  ready  to  go  into  convulsions. 

"  Miss  Hawkins " 

Bud  started  at  mention  of  the  name. 

"  Miss  Hawkins  has  just  been  over  to  say  that  a  crowd  is  going 

to  tar  and  feather  Mr.  Pearson  to-night.  And "  here  Shockj 

wept  again.  "And  he  won't  run,  but  he's  loaded  up  the  old 
flintlock,  and  says  he'll  die  in  his  tracks." 


126  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE     CHURCH     MILITANT. 

•  UD  was  doubly  enlisted  on  the  side  of  John  Pear- 
son, the  basket-maker.  In  the  first  place,  he  knew 
that  this  persecution  of  the  unpopular  old  man  was 
only  a  blind  to  save  somebody  else ;  that  they  were 
thieves  who  cried  "  Stop  thief ! "  And  he  felt  conse- 
quently that  this  was  a  chance  to  put  his  newly-formed  resolutions 
into  practice.  The  Old  Testament  religious  life,  which  consists 
in  fighting  the  Lord's  enemies,  suited  Bud's  temper  and  education. 
It  might  lead  to  something  better.  It  was  the  best  possible  to 
him,  now.  But  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  acknowledge  that 
there  was  a  second  motive  that  moved  Bud  to  this  championship. 
The  good  heart  of  Martha  Hawkins  having  espoused  the  cause  of 
the  basket-maker,  the  heart  of  Bud  Means  could  not  help  feeling 
warmly  on  the  same  side.  Blessed  is  that  man  in  whose  life  the 
driving  of  duty  and  the  drawing  of  love  impel  the  same  wny  ! 
But  why  speak  of  the  driving  of  duty?  For  already  Bud  was 
learning  the  better  lesson  of  serving  God  for  the  love  of  God. 
The  old  basket-maker  was  the  most  unpopular  man  in  Flat 


THE     CHURCH     MILITANT.  127 

Creek  district.  He  had  two  great  vices.  He  would  go  to  Clifty 
and  have  a  "  spree  "  once  in  three  months.  And  he  would  tell  the 
truth  in  a  most  unscrupulous  manner.  A  man  given  to  plain 
speaking  was  quite  as  objectionable  in  Flat  Creek  as  he  would 
have  been  in  France  under  the  Empire,  the  Commune,  or  tho 
Republic.  People  who  live  in  glass  houses  have  a  horror  of 
people  who  throw  stones.  And  the  old  basket-maker,  having  no 
friends,  was  a  good  scape-goat.  In  driving  him  off,  Pete  Jones 
would  get  rid  of  a  dangerous  neighbor  and  divert  attention  from 
himself.  The  immediate  crime  of  the  basket-maker  was  that  he 
had  happened  to  sec  too  much. 

"Mr.  Hartsook,"  said  Bud,  when  they  got  out  into  the  road, 
"  you'd  better  go  straight  home  to  the  Squire's.  Bekase  ef  this 
lightnin'  strikes  a  second  time  it'll  strike  awful  closte  to  you. 
You  hadn't  better  be  seen  with  us.  Which  way  did  you  come, 
Shocky?" 

"  "Why,  I  tried  to  come  down  the  holler,  but  I  met  Jones  right 
by  the  big  road,  and  he  sweared  at  me  and  said  he'd  kill  me 
ef  I  didn't  go  back  and  stay.  And  so  I  went  back  to  the  house 
and  then  slipped  out  through  the  graveyard.  You  see  I  was 
bound  to  come  ef  I  got  skinned.  For  Mr.  Pearson's  stuck  to  me 
and  I  mean  to  stick  to  him,  you  see." 

Bud  led  Shocky  through  the  graveyard.  But  when  they 
reached  the  forest  path  from  the  graveyard  he  thought  that  per- 
haps it  was  not  best  to  "  show  his  hand,"  as  he  expressed  it,  too 
soon. 

"  Now,  Shocky,"  he  said,  "  do  you  run  ahead  and  tell  the  ole 
man  that  I  want  to  see  him  right  off  down  by  the  Spring-in-rock. 
I'll  keep  closte  behind  you,  and  ef  anybody  offers  to  trouble  you, 
do  you  let  off  a  yell  and  I'll  be  thar  in  no  time." 


128  THE     HOOSIEE    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

When  Ralph  left  the  school-house  he  felt  mean.  There  were 
Bud  and  Shocky  gone  on  an  errand  of  mercy,  and  he,  the  truant 
member  of  the  Church  of  the  Best  Licks,  was  not  with  them. 
The  more  he  thought  of  it  the  more  he  seemed  to  be  a  coward, 
and  the  more  he  despised  himself ;  so,  yielding  as  usual  to  the  first 
brave  impulse,  he  leaped  nimbly  over  the  fence  and  started  briskly 
through  the  forest  in  a  direction  intersecting  the  path  on  which 
were  Bud  and  Shocky.  He  came  in  sight  just  hi  time  to  see  the 
first  conflict  of  the  Church  in  the  Wilderness  with  her  foes. 

For  Shocky's  little  feet  went  more  swiftly  on  their  eager  errand 
than  Bud  anticipated.  He  got  farther  out  of  Bud's  reach  than 
the  latter  intended  he  should,  and  he  did  not  discover  Pete  Jones 
until  Pete,  with  his  hog-drover's  whip,  was  right  upon  him. 

Shocky  tried  to  halloo  for  Bud,  but  he  was  like  one  in  a  night- 
mare. The  yell  died  into  a  whisper  which  could  not  have  been 
heard  ten  feet. 

I  shall  not  repeat  Mr.  Jones's  words.  They  were  frightfully 
profane.  But  he  did  not  stop  at  words.  He  swept  his  whip 
round  and  gave  little  Shocky  one  terrible  cut.  Then  the  voice 
was  released,  and  the  piercing  cry  of  pain  brought  Bud  down  the 
path  flying. 

"You  good-for-nothing  scoundrel,"  growled  Bud,  "you're  a 
coward  and  a  thief  to  be  a-beatin'  a  little  creetur  like  him  ! "  and 
with  that  Bud  walked  up  on  Jones,  who  prudently  changed  posi- 
tion in  such  a  wTay  as  to  get  the  upper  side  of  the  hill. 

"Well,  I'll  gin  you  the  upper  side,  but  come  on,"  cried  Bud, 
"ef  you  a'n't  afeared  to  fight  somebody  besides  a  poor,  little, 
sickly  baby  or  a  crippled  soldier.  Come  on  ! " 

Pete  was  no  insignificant  antagonist.  He  had  been  a  great 
fighter,  and  his  well-seasoned  arms  were  like  iron.  He  had  not 


THE     CHURCH     MILITANT. 


129 


the  splendid  set  of  Bud,  but  he  had  more  skill  and  experience  in. 
the  rude  tournament  of  fists  to  which  the  backwoods  is  so  much 


'COME  ON!"   CRIED  BUD. 


given.  Now,  being  out  of  sight  of  witnesses  and  sure  that  he 
could  lie  about  the  fight  afterwards,  he  did  not  scruple  to  take 
advantages  which  would  have  disgraced  him  forever  if  he  had 


130  THE    HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

taken  them  in  a  public  fight  on  election  or  training  day.  He  took 
the  uphill  side,  and  he  clubbed  his  whip-stalk,  striking  Bud  with, 
all  his  force  with  the  heavy  end,  which,  coward-like,  he  had 
loaded  with  lead.  Bud  threw  up  his  strong  left  arm  and  parried 
the  blow,  which,  however,  was  so  fierce  that  it  fractured  one  of 
the  bones  of  the  arm.  Throwing  away  his  whip  he  rushed  upon 
Bud  furiously,  intending  to  overpower  him,  but  Bud  slipped 
quickly  to  one  side  and  let  Jones  pass  down  the  hill,  and  as  Jones 
came  up  again  Means  dealt  him  one  crushing  blow  that  sent  him 
full  length  upon  the  ground.  Nothing  but  the  leaves  saved  him 
from  a  most  terrible  fall.  Jones  sprang  to  his  feet  more  angry 
than  ever  at  being  whipped  by  one  whom  he  regarded  as  a  boy, 
and  drew  a  long  dirk-knife.  But  Pete  was  blind  with  rage,  and 
Bud  dodged  the  knife,  and  this  time  gave  Pete  a  blow  on  the  nose 
which  marred  the  homeliness  of  that  feature,  and  doubled  the 
fellow  up  against  a  tree  ten  feet  away. 

Ralph  came  in  sight  in  time  to  see  the  beginning  of  the  fight, 
and  he  arrived  on  the  ground  just  as  Pete  Jones  went  down 
under  the  well-dealt  blow  from  the  only  remaining  fist  of  Bud 
Means. 

While  Ralph  tied  up  Bud's  disabled  left  arm  Pete  picked  himself 
up  slowly,  and,  muttering  that  he  felt  "  consid'able  shuck  up  like," 
crawled  away  like  a  whipped  puppy.  To  every  one  whom  he 
met,  Pete,  whose  intellect  seemed  to  have  weakened  in  sympathy 
with  his  frame,  remarked  feebly  that  he  was  consid'able  shuck  up 
like,  and  vouchsafed  no  other  explanation.  Even  to  his  wife  he 
only  said  that  he  felt  purty  consid'able  shuck  up  like,  and  that 
the  boys  would  have  to  get  on  to-night  without  him.  There  are 
some  scoundrels  whose  very  malignity  is  shaken  out  of  them  for 
the  time  being  by  a  thorough  drubbing. 


THE   CHURCH   MILITANT.  131 

"I'm  afraid  you're  going  to  have  trouble  with  your  arm,  Bud," 
said  Ralph  tenderly. 

"  Never  mind ;  I  put  hi  my  best  licks  fer  Him,  that  air  time,  Mr. 
Hartsook."  Ralph  shivered  a  little  at  thought  of  this,  but  if  it 
was  right  to  knock  Jones  down  at  all,  why  might  not  Bud  do  it 
"heartily  as  unto  tbe  Lord"?  Gideon  did  not  feel  any  more 
honest  pleasure  in  chastising  the  Midianities  than  did  Bud  in 
sending  Pete  Jones  away  consid'able  shuck  up  like. 


132 


THE    HOOSIEtt    SCHOOL-MAbTEB. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

A     COUNCIL     OF     WAR. 

)HOCKY,  whose  feet  had  flown  as  soon  as  he  saw 
the  final  fall  of  Pete  Jones,  told  the  whole  story 
to  the  wondering  and  admiring  ears  of  Miss  Hawkins, 
who  unhappily  could  not  remember  anything  at  the 
East  just  like  it;  to  the  frightened  ears  of  the  rheu- 
matic old  lady  who  felt  sure  her  ole  man's  talk  and 
stubbornness  would  be  the  ruin  of  him,  and  to  the  indignant  cars 
of  the  old  soldier  who  was  hobbling  up  and  down,  sentinel- wise, 
in  front  of  his  cabin,  standing  guard  over  himself. 

"  No,  I  won't  leave,"  he  said  to  Kalph  and  Bud.  "  You  see  I 
jest  won't.  What  would  General  Winficld  Scott  say  ef  he  knew 
that  one  of  them  as  fit  at  Lundy's  Lane  backed  out,  retreated, 
run  fer  fear  of  a  passel  of  thieves?  No,  sir;  me  and  tLe  old 
flintlock  will  live  and  die  together.  I'll  put  a  thunderin'  charge 
of  buckshot  into  the  first  one  of  them  scoundrels  as  comes  up 
the  holler.  It'll  be  another  Lundy's  Lane.  And  you,  Mr.  Hart- 
sook,  may  send  Scott  word  that  ole  Pearson,  as  fit  at  Lundy'a 


A    COUNCIL    OP    WAR.  133 

Lane  under  him,  died  a  fightin'  thieves  on  Rocky  Branch  hi 
Hoopole  Kyounty,  State  of  Inj  canny." 

And  the  old  man  hobbled  faster  and  faster,  taxing  his  wooden 
leg  to  the  very  utmost,  as  if  his  victory  depended  on  the  vehe- 
mence with  which  he  walked  his  beat. 

Mrs.  Pearson  sat  wringing  her  hands  and  looking  appealingly 
at  Martha  Hawkins,  who  stood  in  the  door,  in  despair,  looking 
appealingly  at  Bud.  Bud  was  stupefied  by  the  old  man's  stub- 
bornness and  his  own  pain,  and  hi  his  turn  appealed  mutely  to 
the  master,  in  wrhose  resources  he  had  boundless  confidence. 
Ralph,  sseing  that  all  depended  on  him,  was  taxing  his  wits  to 
think  of  some  way  to  got  round  the  old  man's  stubbornness. 
Shocky  hung  on  to  the  old  man's  coat  and  pulled  away  at  him 
with  many  entreating  words,  but  the  venerable,  bareheaded  senti- 
nel strode  up  and  down  furiously,  with  his  flintlock  on  his 
shoulder  and  his  basket-knife  in  his  belt. 

Just  at  this  point  somebody  could  be  seen  indistinctly  through 
the  bushes  coming  up  the  hollow. 

"  Halt !  "  cried  the  old  hero.    "  Who  goes  there  ?  " 

"  It's  me,  Mr.  Pearson.     Don't  shoot  me,  please." 

It  was  the  voice  of  Hannah  Thomson.  Hearing  that  the  whole 
neighborhood  was  rising  against  the  benefactor  of  Shocky  and  of 
her  family,  she  had  slipped  away  from  the  eyes  of  her  mistress, 
and  ran  with  breathless  haste  to  give  warning  in  the  cabin  on 
Rocky  Branch.  Seeing  Ralph,  she  blushed,  and  went  into  the 
cabin. 

"  Well,"  said  Ralph,  "  the  enemy  is  not  coming  yet.  Let  us 
hold  a  council  of  war." 

This  thought  came  to  Ralph  like  an  inspiration.  It  pleased  the 
old  man's  whim,  and  he  sat  down  on  the  dcor-step. 


134  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  Now,  I  suppose,"  said  Ralph,  "  that  General  Winfield  Scott 
always  looked  into  things  a  little  before  he  went  into  a  fight. 
Didn't  he  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,"  assented  the  old  man. 

"  Well,"  said  Ralpn.  "  What  is  the  condition  of  the  enemy  ? 
I  suppose  the  whole  neighborhood's  against  us." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man.  The  rest  were  silent,  but  all 
felt  the  statement  to  be  about  true. 

"  Next,"  said  Ralph,  "  I  suppose  General  Winfield  Scott  would 
always  inquire  into  the  condition  of  his  own  troops.  Now  let 
us  see.  Captain  Pearson  has  Bud,  who  is  the  right  wing,  badly 
crippled  by  having  his  arm  broken  in  the  first  battle."  (Miss 
Hawkins  looked  pale.) 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man. 

"And  I  am  the  left  whig,  pretty  good  at  giving  advice,  but 
very  slender  in  a  fight." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man. 

"And  Shocky  and  Miss  Martha  and  Hannah  good  aids,  but 
nothing  in  a  battle." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  basket-maker,  a  little  doubtfully. 

"  Now,  let's  look  at  the  arms  and  accouterments,  I  think  you 
call  them.  Well,  this  old  musket  has  been  loaded " 

"  This  ten  year,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"And  the  lock  is  so  rusty  that  you  could  not  cock  it  when 
wanted  to  take  aim  at  Hannah." 

The  old  man  looked  foolish,  and  muttered  "  To  be  sure." 

"And  there  isn't  another  round  of  ammunition  in  the  house." 

The  old  man  was  silent. 

"Now  let  us  look  at  the  incumbrances.  Here's  the  old  lady 
and  Shocky.  If  you  fight,  the  enemy  will  be  pleased.  It  will 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR.  135 

give  them  a  chance  to  kill  you.  And  then  the  old  lady  will  die 
and  they  will  do  with  Shocky  as  they  please." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man  reflectively. 

"  Now,"  said  Ralph,  "  General  Winfield  Scott,  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, would  retreat  in  good  order.  Then,  when  he  could 
muster  his  forces  rightly,  he  would  drive  the  enemy  from  his 
ground." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man.    "  What  ort  I  to  do  ?  " 

"  Have  you  any  friends  ?  " 

"Well,  yes;  thcr's  my  brother  over  in  Jackson  Kyounty.  I 
mout  go  there." 

"  Well,"  said  Bud,  "  do  you  just  go  down  to  Spring-in-rock  and 
ttay  there.  Them  folks  won't  be  here  tell  midnight.  I'll  come 
for  you  at  nine  with  my  roan  colt,  and  I'll  set  you  down  over  on 
the  big  road  on  Buckeye  Run.  Then  you  can  git  on  the  mail- 
wagon  that  passes  there  about  >:ve  o'clock  in  the  mornin',  and  go 
over  to  Jackson  County  and  keep  shady  till  we  want  you  to  face 
the  enemy  and  to  swear  agin  some  folks.  And  then  we'll  send 
fer  you." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man  in  a  broken  voice.  "  I  reckon 
General  Winfield  Scott  wouldn't  disapprove  of  such  a  maneuver 
as  that  thar." 

Miss  Martha  beamed  on  Bud  to  his  evident  delight,  for  he  car- 
ried his  painful  arm  part  of  the  way  home  with  her.  Ralph 
noticed  that  Hannah  looked  at  Mm  with  a  look  full  of  contending 
emotions.  He  read  admiration,  gratitude,  and  doubt  in  the  ex- 
pression of  her  face,  as  she  turned  toward  home. 

"  Well,  good  by,  ole  woman,"  said  Pearson,  as  he  took  up  his 
little  handkerchief  full  of  things  and  started  for  his  hiding-place  ; 
"  good  by.  I  didn't  never  think  I'd  desart  you,  and  ef  the  old 


136  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

flintlock  hadn't  a  been  rusty,  I'd  a  staid  and  died  right  here  by 
the  ole  cabin.  But  I  reckon  'ta'n't  best  to  be  brash."  And 
Shocky  looked  after  him,  as  he  hobbled  away  over  the  stones, 
more  than  ever  convinced  that  God  had  forgotten  all  about  things 
on  Flat  Creek.  He  gravely  expressed  this  opinion  to  the  master 
the  next  day. 


ODDS   AND    ENDS.  137 


CHAPTER    XVIIL 

ODDS  AND  ENDS. 

HE  Spring-in-rock,  or,  as  it  was  sometimes,  by  a 
curious  perversity,  called,  "the  rock-in-spring," 
was  a  spring  running  out  of  a  cavelike  fissure  in  a 
high  limestone  cliff.  Here  the  old  man  sheltered  him- 
self on  that  dreary  Christmas  evening,  until  Bud 
brought  his  roan  colt  to  the  top  of  the  cliff  above,  and  hn  and 
Ralph  helped  the  old  man  up  the  cliff  and  into  the  saddle.  Ralph 
went  back  to  bed,  but  Bud,  who  was  only  too  eager  to  put  in  his 
best  licks,  walked  by  the  side  of  old  John  Pearson  the  six:  miles 
over  to  Buckeye  Run,  and  at  last,  after  eleven  o'clock,  he  de- 
posited him  in  a  hollow  sycamore  by  the  road,  there  to  wait  the 
coming  of  the  mail-wagon  that  would  carry  him  into  Jackson 
County. 

"  Good  by,"  said  the  basket-maker,  as  Bud  mounted  the  colt  to 
return.  "Ef  I'm  wanted  jest  send  me  word,  and  I'll  make  a 
forrard  movement  any  time.  I  don't  like  this  ere  thing  of  run- 
ning off  in  the  night-time.  But  I  reckon  General  Winfield  Scott 


138  THE    HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

would  a  ordered  a  retreat  ef  he'd  a  been  in  my  shoes.  I'm  lots 
obleeged  to  you.  Akordin'  to  my  tell,  we're  all  of  us  selfish  in 
every  thing;  but  I'll  be  dog-on'd  ef  I  don't  believe  you  and  "one  or 
two  more  is  exceptions." 

Whether  it  was  that  the  fact  that  Pete  Jones  had  got  consid'a- 
ble  shuck  up  demoralized  his  followers,  or  whether  it  was  that  the 
old  man's  flight  was  suspected,  the  mob  did  not  turn  out  in  very 
great  force,  and  the  tarring  was  postponed  indefinitely,  for  by  the 
time  they  came  together  it  became  known  somehow  that  the 
man  with  a  wooden  leg  had  outrun  them  all.  But  the  escape  of 
one  devoted  victim  did  not  mollify  the  feelings  of  the  people 
toward  the  next  one. 

By  the  time  Bud  returned  his  arm  was  very  painful,  and  the 
next  day  he  went  under  Dr.  Small's  treatment  to  reduce  the  frac- 
ture. Whatever  suspicions  Bud  might  have  of  Pete  Jones,  he 
was  not  afflicted  with  Ralph's  dread  of  the  silent  young  doctor. 
And  if  there  was  anything  Small  admired,  it  was  physical 
strength  and  courage.  Small  wanted  Bud  on  his  side,  and  least 
of  all  did  he  want  him  to  be  Ralph's  champion.  So  that  the 
silent,  cool,  and  skillful  doctor  went  to  work  to  make  an  impres- 
sion on  Bud  Means. 

Other  influences  were  at  work  upon  him  also.  Mrs.  Means 
volleyed  and  thundered  hi  her  usual  style  about  his  "  takin'  up 
with  a  one-legged  thief,  and  runnin'  arter  that  master  that  was 
a  mighty  suspicious  kind  of  a  customer,  akordin'  to  her  tell 
She'd  allers  said  so.  Ef  she'd  a  been  consulted  he  wouldn't  a 
been  hired.  He  warn't  fit  company  fer  nobody." 

And  old  Jack  Means  'lowed  Bud  must  want  to  have  their 
barns  burnt  like  some  other  folks'  had  been.  Fer  his  part,  he 
had  sense  enough  to  know  they  was  some  people  as  it  wouldn't 


ODDS    AND   ENDS.  139 

do  to  set  a  body's  self  agin.  And  as  fer  him,  he  didn't  butt  his 
brains  out  agin  a  buckeye-tree.  Not  when  he  was  sober.  And  so 
they  managed,  during  Bud's  confinement  to  the  house,  to  keep 
him  well  supplied  with  all  the  ordinary  discomforts  of  life. 

But  one  visit  from  Martha  Hawkins,  ten  words  of  kindly 
inquiry  from  her,  and  the  remark  that  his  broken  arm  reminded 
her  of  something  she  had  seen  at  the  East  and  something  some- 
body said  the  time  she  was  to  Bosting,  were  enough  to  repay  the 
champion  a  thousand-fold  for  all  that  he  suffered.  Indeed,  that 
visit,  and  the  recollection  of  Ralph's  saying  that  Jesus  Christ  was 
a  sort  of  a  Flat  Creeker  himself,  were  manna  in  the  wilderness 
to  Bud. 

Poor  Shocky  was  sick.  The  excitement  had  been  too  much 
for  him,  and  though  his  fever  was  very  slight  it  was  enough  to 
produce  just  a  little  delirium.  Either  Ralph  or  Miss  Martha  was 
generally  at  the  cabin. 

"  They're  coming,"  said  Shocky  to  Ralph,  "  they're  coming. 
Pete  Jones  is  agoing  to  bind  me  out  for  a  hundred  years.  I 
wish  Planner  would  hold  me  so's  he  couldn't.  God's  forgot  all 
about  us  here  in  Flat  Creek,  and  there's  nobody  to  help  it." 

And  he  shivered  at  every  sudden  sound.  He  was  never  free 
from  this  delirious  fright  except  when  the  master  held  him  tight 
in  his  arms.  He  staggered  around  the  floor,  the  very  shadow  of 
Shocky,  and  was  so  terrified  by  the  approach  of  darkness  that 
Ralph  sta'.d  in  the  cabin  on  Wednesday  night  and  Miss  Hawkins 
Btaid  on  Thursday  night.  On  Friday,  Bud  sent  a  note  to  Ralph, 
asking  him  to  come  and  see  him. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Hartsook,  I  ha'n't  forgot  what  we  said  about 
put  tin'  in  our  best  licks  for  Jesus  Christ.  I've  been  a  trying  to 
read  some  about  him  while  I  set  here.  And  I  read  where  he 


140  THE     IIOOSIER    SCUOOL-MASTEK. 

said  something  about  doing  fer  the  least  of  his  brethren  being 
all  the  same  like  as  if  it  was  done  fer  Jesus  Christ  hisself.  Now 
there's  Shocky.  I  reckon,  pYaps,  ef  anybody  is  a  little  brother 
of  Jesus  Christ,  it  is  that  Shocky.  Pete  Jones  and  his  brother 
Bill  is  detarmined  to  have  him  back  there  to-morry.  Bekase,  you 
see,  Pete's  one  of  the  County  Commissioners,  and  to-morry's  the 
day  that  they  bind  out.  He  wants  to  bind  out  that  boy  jes'  to 
spite  ole  Pearson  and  you  and  me.  You  see,  the  ole  woman's 
been  helped  by  the  neighbors,  and  he'll  claim  Shocky  to  be  a 
pauper,  and  they  a'n't  no  human  soul  here  as  dares  to  do  a 
thing  contrary  to  Pete.  Couidn't  you  git  him  over  to  Lewisburg? 
I'll  lend  you  my  roan  colt." 

Ralph  thought  a  minute.  He  dare  not  take  Shocky  to  the 
uncle's  where  he  found  his  only  home.  But  there  was  Miss 
Nancy  Sawyer,  the  old  maid  who  was  everybody's  blessing.  He 
could  ask  her  to  keep  him.  And,  at  any  rate,  he  would 
Shocky  somehow. 

As  he  went  out  in  the  dusk,  he  met  Hannah  in  the  lane. 


FACE  TO   FACE. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

FACE    TO   FACE. 

JN  the  lane,  in  the  dark,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
barn,  Ralph  met  Hannah  carrying  her  bucket  of 
milk  (they  have  no  pails  in  Indiana).  He  could  see 
only  the  white  foam  on  the  milk,  and  Hannah's  white 
face.  Perhaps  it  was  well  that  he  could  not  see  how 
white  Hannah's  face  was  at  that  moment  when  a  sudden  trem- 
bling made  her  set  down  the  heavy  bucket.  At  first  neither 
spoke.  The  recollection  of  all  the  joy  of  that  walk  together  hi 
the  night  came  upon  them  both.  And  a  great  sense  of  loss  made 
the  night  seem  supernaturally  dark  to  Ralph.  Nor  was  it  any 
lighter  hi  the  hopeless  heart  of  the  bound  girl.  The  presence  of 
Ralph  did  not  now,  as  before,  make  the  darkness  of  her  life  light. 
"  Hannah —  "  said  Ralph  presently,  and  stopped.  For  he 
could  not  finish  the  sentence.  With  a  rush  there  came  upon  him 
a  consciousness  of  the  suspicions  that  filled  Hannah's  mind.  And 
with  it  there  came  a  feeling  of  guilt.  He  saw  himself  from  her 
stand-point,  and  felt  a  remorse  almost  as  keen  as  it  could  have 


143  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

been  had  he  been  a  criminal.  And  this  sudden  and  morbid  sense 
of  his  guilt  as  it  appeared  to  Hannah  paralyzed  him.  But  when 
Hannah  lifted  her  bucket  with  her  hand,  and  the  world  with 
her  heavy  heart,  and  essayed  to  pass  him,  Ralph  rallied  and  said : 

"  You  don't  believe  all  these  lies  that  are  told  about  me." 

"  I  don't  believe  anything,  Mr.  Hartsook ;  that  is,  I  don't  want 
to  believe  anything  against  you.  And  I  wouldn't  mind  anything 
they  say  if  it  wasn't  for  two  things — "  here  she  stammered  and 
looked  down. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  what?"  said  Ralph  with  a  spice  of  indignant 
denial  in  his  voice. 

Hannah  hesitated,  but  Ralph  pressed  the  question  with  eager- 


"  I  saw  you  cross  that  blue-grass  pasture  the  night — the  night 
that  you  walked  home  with  me."  Slie  would  have  said  the  night 
of  the  robbery,  but  her  heart  smote  her,  and  she  adopted  the  more 
kindly  form  of  the  sentence. 

Ralph  would  have  explained,  but  how  ? 

"  I  did  cross  the  pasture,"  he  began,  "  but " 

Just  here  it  occurred  to  Ralph  that  there  was  no  reason  for  his 
night  excursion  across  the  pasture.  Hannah  again  took  up  her 
bucket,  but  he  said  :  "  Tell  me  what  else  you  have  against  me." 

"  I  haven't  anything  against  you.  Only  I  am  poor  and  friend- 
less, and  you  oughtn't  to  make  my  life  any  heavier.  They  say 
that  you  have  paid  attention  to  a  great  many  girls.  I  don't  know 
why  you  should  want  to  trifle  with  me." 

Ralph  answered  her  this  time.  He  spoke  low.  He  spoke  as 
though  he  were  speaking  to  God.  "  If  any  man  says  that  I  ever 
trifled  with  any  woman,  he  lies.  I  have  never  loved  but  one,  and 
you  know  who  that  is.  And  God  knows." 


PACE   TO    FACE.  143 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  Mr.  Hartsook."  Hannah's  voice 
was  broken.  These  solemn  words  of  love  were  like  a  river  in  the 
desert,  and  she  was  like  a  wanderer  dying  of  thirst.  "  I  don't 
know,  Mr.  Hartsook.  If  I  was  alone,  it  wouldn't  matter.  But 
I've  got  my  blind  mother  and  my  poor  Shocky  to  look  after. 
And  I  don't  want  to  make  mistakes.  And  the  world  is  so  full  of 
lies  I  don't  know  what  to  believe.  Somehow  I  can't  help  believ- 
ing what  you  say.  You  seem  to  speak  so  true.  But " 

"  But  what?  "  said  Ralph. 

"  But  you  know  how  I  saw  you  just  as  kind  to  Martha  Hawkins 
on  Sunday  as — as ' 

"  Han — ner ! "     It  was  the  melodious  voice  of  the  angry  Mrs. 

4- 

Means,  and  Hannah  lifted  her  pail  and  disappeared. 

Standing  in  the  shadow  of  his  own  despair,  Ralph  felt  how 
dark  a  night  could  be  when  it  had  no  promise  of  morning. 

And  Dr.  Small,  who  had  been  stabling  his  horse  just  inside  the 
barn,  came  out  and  moved  quietly  into  the  house  just  as  though 
hs  had  not  listened  intently  to  every  word  of  the  conversation. 

As  Ralph  walked  away  he  tried  to  comfort  himself  by  calling 
to  his  aid  the  bull-dog  in  his  character.  But  somehow  it  did  not 
do  him  any  good.  For  what  is  a  bull-dog  but  a  stoic  philosopher  ? 
Stoicism  has  its  value,  but  Ralph  had  come  to  a  place  where  stoi- 
cism was  of  no  account.  The  memory  of  the  Helper,  of  his  sor* 
row,  his  brave  and  victorious  endurance,  came  when  stoicism 
fail  ad.  Happiness  might  go  out  of  life,  but  in  the  light  of  Christ's 
life  happiness  seeme.1  but  a  small  element  any  how.  The  love  of 
woman  might  be  denied  him,  but  there  still  remained  what  was 
infinitely  more  precious  and  holy,  the  love  of  God.  There  still 
remained  the  possibility  of  heroic  living.  Working,  suffering, 
and  enduring  still  remained.  And  he  who  can  work  for  God  and 


144  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

endure  for  God,  surely  has  yet  the  best  of  life  left.  And,  like  the 
knights  who  could  only  find  the  Holy  Grail  in  losing  themselves, 
Hartsook,  in  throwing  his  happiness  out  of  the  count,  found  the 
purest  happiness,  a  sense  of  the  victory  of  the  soul  over  the 
tribulations  of  life.  The  man  who  knows  this  victory  scarcely 
needs  the  encouragement  of  the  hope  of  future  happiness.  There 
is  a  real  heaven  hi  bravely  lifting  the  load  of  one's  own  sorrow 
and  work. 

And  it  was  a  good  thing  for  Ralph  that  the  danger  hanging  oveir 
tthocky  i»Ade  immediate  action  necessary. 


GOD    REMEMBERS    SHOCK Y.  145 


CHAPTER    XX. 

GOD     REMEMBERS     SHOCKY. 

r 
T  four  o'clock  the  next  morning,  in  the  midst 

of  a  driving  snow,  Ralph  went  timidly  up  the  lane 
toward  the  homely  castle  of  the  Meanses.  He  went 
timidly,  for  he  was  afraid  of  Bull.  But  he  found 
Bud  waiting  for  him,  with  the  roan  colt  bridled  and 
saddled.  The  roan  colt  was  really  a  large  three-year-old,  full  of 
the  finest  sort  of  animal  life,  and  having,  as  Bud  declared,  "  a 
mighty  sight  of  hoss  sense  fer  his  age."  He  seemed  to  understand 
at  once  that  there  was  something  extraordinary  on  hand  when 
he  was  brought  out  of  his  comfortable  quarters  at  four  in  the 
morning  in  the  midst  of  a  snow-storm.  Bud  was  sure  that  the 
roan  colt  felt  his  responsibility. 

In  the  days  that  followed,  Ralph  often  had  occasion  to  remem- 
ber this  interview  with  Bud,  who  had  risked  much  in  bringing 
his  fractured  arm  out  into  cue  cold,  damp  air.  Jonathan  never 
clave  to  David  more  earnestly  than  did  Bud  this  December 
morning  to  Ralph. 


J48  THE     HOOSlEIi     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

'•  You  see,  Mr.  Hartsook,"  said  Bud,  "  I  wish  I  was  well  myself. 
It's  hard  to  set  still.  But  it's  a-doing  me  a  heap  of  good.  I'm 
like  a  boy  at  school.  And  I'm  a-findin'  out  that  doing  one's  best 
licks  fer  others  isn't  all  they  is  of  it,  though  it's  a  good  part.  I 
',feel  like  as  if  I  must  git  Him,  you  know,  to  do  lots  for  me. 
They's  always  some  sums  too  hard  fer  a  feller,  and  he  has  to  ax 
the  master  to  do  'em,  you  know.  But  see,  the  roan's  a-stomping 
round.  He  wants  to  be  off.  Do  you  know  I  think  that  hoss 
knows  something's  up  ?  I  think  he  puts  in  his  best  licks  fer  me 
a  good  deal  better  than  I  do  fer  Him."  There  was  no  more 
hopeful  sign  of  the  growth  of  a  genuine  religious  life  in  Bud  than 
the  feeling  of  reverence  which  caused  him  to  cease  to  speak  too 
familiarly  of  God  or  Christ,  and  to  use  pronouns  and  circumloeu 
tions. 

Ralph  pressed  Bud's  right-hand.  Bud  rubbed  his  face  against 
the  colt's  nose  and  said:  "Put  in  your  best  licks,  old  fellow." 
And  the  colt  whinnied.  How  a  horse  must  want  to  speak  !  For 
Bud  was  right.  Men  are  gods  to  horses,  and  they  serve  their 
deities  with  a  faithfulness  that  shames  us. 

Then  Ralph  sprang  into  the  saddle,  and  the  roan,  as  if  wishing 
to  show  Bud  his  willingness,  broke  into  a  swinging  gallop,  and 
was  soon  lost  from  the  sight  of  his  master  in  the  darkness  and 
the  snow.  When  Bud  could  no  more  hear  the  sound  of  the 
roan's  footsteps  he  returned  to  the  house,  to  lie  awake  picturing 
to  himself  the  journey  of  "Ralph  with  Shocky  and  the  roan  colt. 
It  was  a  great  comfort  to  Bud  that  the  roan,  which  was  almost 
a  part  of  himself,  represented  him  in  this  ride.  And  he  knew  the 
7oan  well  enough  to  feel  sure  that  he  would  do  credit  to  his 
master.  "  He'll  put  in  his  best  licks,"  Bud  whispered  to  himself 
many  a  time  before  daybreak. 


<;<>!>    It  KM  KM  HERS     SHOCK  Y.  147 

The  ground  was  but  little  frozen,  and  the  snow  made  the  roads 
more  slippery  than  ever.  But  the  rough-shod  roan  handled  his 
feet  dexterously  and  with  a  playful  and  somewhat  self-righteous 
air,  as  if  he  said  :  "  Didn't  I  do  it  handsomely  that  time  ? "  Down 
slippery  hills,  through  deep  mud-holes  covered  with  a  slender 
film  of  ice,  he  trod  with  perfect  assurance.  And  then  up  over 
the  rough  stones  of  Rocky  Hollow,  where  there  was  no  road  at 
all,  he  picked  his  way  through  the  darkness  and  snow.  Ralph 
could  not  tell  where  he  was  at  last,  but  gave  the  reins  to  the 
roan,  who  did  his  duty  bravely,  and  not  without  a  little  flourish, 
as  if  to  show  that  he  had  yet  plenty  of  spare  power. 

A  feeble  candle-ray,  making  the  dense  snow-fall  visible,  marked 
for  Ralph  the  site  of  the  basket-maker's  cabin.  Miss  Martha  had 
been  admitted  to  the  secret,  and  had  joined  in  the  conspiracy 
heartily,  without  being  able  to  recall  anything  of  the  kind  having 
occurred  at  the  East,  and  not  remembering  having  seen  or  heard 
of  anything  of  the  sort  the  time  she  was  to  Bosting.  She  had 
Shocky  all  ready,  having  used  some  of  her  own  capes  and  shawls 
to  make  him  warm. 

Miss  Martha  came  out  to  meet  Ralph  when  she  heard  the  feet 
of  the  roan  before  the  door. 

"  O  Mr.  Hartsook !  is  that  you  ?  What  a  storm  !  This  is  just 
the  way  it  snows  at  the  East.  Shocky's  all  ready.  He  didn't 
know  a  thing  about  it  tell  I  waked  him  this  morning.  Ever  since 
that  he's  been  saying  that  God  hasn't  forgot,  after  all.  It's  made 
me  cry  more'n  once."  And  Shocky  kissed  Mrs.  Pearson,  and 
told  her  that  when  he  got  away  from  Flat  Creek  he'd  tell  God  all 
about  it,  and  God  would  bring  Mr.  Pearson  back  again.  And 
then  Martha  Hawkins  lifted  the  frail  little  form,  bundled  in 
ahawls,  in  her  arms,  and  brought  him  out  into  the  storm  ;  and 


148  THE    noosi::i:    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

before  she  handed  him  up  he  embraced  her,  and  said  :  "  O  Misg 
Hawkins !  God  ha'n't  forgot  me,  after  all.  Tell  Manner  that  He 
ha'n't  forgot.  I'm  going  to  ask  him  to  git  her  away  from  Mears's 
and  mother  out  of  the  poor-house.  I'll  ask  him  just  as  soon  as  I 
get  to  Lewisburg.  " 

Ralph  lifted  the  trembling  form  into  his  arms,  and  the  little 
fellow  only  looked  up  in  the  face  of  the  master  and  said  :  "You 
see,  Mr.  Hartsook,  I  thought  God  had  forgot.  But  he  ha'n't ! " 

And  the  words  of  the  little  boy  comforted  the  master  also. 
God  had  not  forgotten  him  either ! 

From  the  moment  that  Ralph  took  Shocky  into  his  arms,  the 
conduct  of  the  roan  colt  underwent  an  entire  revolution.  Before 
that  he  had  gone  over  a  bad  place  with  a  rush,  as  though  he  were 
ambitious  of  distinguishing  himself  by  his  brilliant  execution. 
Now  he  trod  none  the  less  surely,  but  he  trod  tenderly.  The 
neck  was  no  longer  arched.  He  set  himself  to  his  work  as 
steadily  as  though  he  were  twenty  years  old.  For  miles  he  trav- 
eled on  in  a  long,  swinging  walk,  putting  his  feet  down  carefully 
and  firmly.  And  Ralph  felt  the  spirit  of  the  colt  enter  into  him- 
self. He  cut  the  snow-storm  with  his  face,  and  felt  a  sense  of 
triumph  over  all  his  difficulties.  The  bull-dog's  jaws  had  been  his 
teacher,  and  now  the  steady,  strong,  and  conscientious  legs  of  the 
roan  inspired  him. 

Shocky  had  not  spoken.  He  lay  listening  to  the  steady  music 
of  the  horse's  feet,  doubtless  framing  the  footsteps  of  the  roan 
colt  into  an  anthem  of  praise  to  the  God  who  had  not  forgot. 
But  as  the  dawn  came  on,  making  the  snow  whiter,  he  raised 
himself  and  said  half -aloud,  as  he  watched  the  flakes  chasing  one 
another  in  whirling  eddies,  that  the  snow  seemed  to  be  having  a 
good  time  of  it  Then  he  leaned  down  again  on  the  master's 


GOD    REMEMBERS    SHOCKY.  ]51 

bosom,  full  of  a  still  joy,  and  only  roused  from  his  happy  reverie 
to  ask  what  that  big,  ugly-looking  house  was. 

"  See,  Mr.  Hartsook,  how  big  it  is,  and  how  little  and  ugly  the 
windows  is !  And  the  boards  is  peeling  off  all  over  it,  and  the 
hogs  is  right  in  the  front-yard.  It  don't  loo"k  just  like  a  house. 
It  looks  dreadful.  What  is  it  ?  " 

Ralph  had  dreaded  this  question.  He  did  not  answer  it,  but 
asked  Shocky  to  change  his  position  a  little,  and  then  he  quick- 
ened the  pace  of  the  horse.  But  Shocky  was  a  poet,  and  a  poet 
understands  silence  more  quickly  than  he  does  speech.  The  little 
fellow  shivered  as  the  truth  came  to  him. 

"  Is  that  the  poor-house  ?  "  he  said,  catching  his  breath.  "  Is 
my  mother  in  that  place?  Won't  you  take  me  in  there,  so  as  I 
can  just  kiss  her  once?  'Cause  she  can't  see  much,  you  know. 
And  one  kiss  from  me  will  make  her  feel  so  good.  And  I'll  tell 
her  that  God  ha'n't  forgot."  He  had  raised  up  and  caught  hold 
of  Ralph's  coat. 

Ralph  had  great  difficulty  in  quieting  him  He  told  him  that 
if  he  went  in  there  Bill  Jones  might  claim  that  he  was  a  run- 
away and  belonged  there.  And  poor  Shocky  only  shivered  and 
said  he  was  cold.  A  minute  later,  Ralph  found  that  he  was 
shaking  with  a  chill,  and  a  horrible  dread  came  over  him.  What 
if  Shocky  should  die  ?  It  was  only  a  minute's  work  to  get  down, 
take  the  warm  horse-blanket  from  under  the  saddle,  and  wrap  it 
about  the  boy,  then  to  strip  off  his  own  overcoat  and  add  that  to 
it.  It  was  now  daylight,  and  finding,  after  he  had  mounted,  that 
Shocky  continued  to  shiver,  he  put  the  roan  to  his  best  speed  for 
the  rest  of  the  way,  trotting  up  and  down  the  slippery  hills,  and 
galloping  away  on  the  level  ground.  How  bravely  the  roan  laid 
himself  to  his  work,  making  the  fence-corners  fly  past  in  a  long 


152  THE     IIOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

procession !  But  poor  little  Shocky  was  too  cold  to  notice  them, 
and  Ralph  shuddered  lest  Shocky  should  never  be  warm  again, 
and  spoke  to  the  roan,  and  the  roan  stretched  out  his  head,  and 
dropped  one  ear  back  to  hear  the  first  word  of  command,  and 
stretched  the  other  forward  to  look  out  for  danger,  and  then- flew 
with  a  splendid  speed  down  the  road,  past  the  patches  of  black- 
berry briars,  past  the  elderberry  bushes,  past  the  familiar  red-haw 
tree  in  the  fence-corner,  over  the  bridge  without  regard  to  the 
threat  of  a  five-dollar  fine,  and  at  last  up  the  long  lane  into  the 
village,  where  the  smoke  from  the  cnunneys  was  caught  and 
whirled  round  with  the  snow. 


MISS   NANCY    SAWYER.  153 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

MISS     NANCY     SAWYER. 

a  little  old  cottage  in  Lewisburg,  on  one  of  the 
streets  which  was  never  traveled  except  by  a  soli- 
tary cow  seeking  pasture  or  a  countryman  bringing 
wood  to  some  one  of  the  half-dozen  families  living  in 
it,  and  which  in  summer  was  decked  wilti  a  profusion 
of  the  yellow  and  white  blossoms  of  the  dog-fennel — in  this  un- 
frequented street,  so  generously  and  unnecessarily  broad,  lived 
Miss  Nancy  Sawyer  and  her  younger  sister  Semantha.  Miss 
Nancy  was  a  providence,  one  of  those  old  maids  that  are  bene- 
dictions to  the  whole  town ;  one  of  those  in  whom  the  mother- 
love,  wanting  the  natural  objects  on  which  to  spend  itself,  over- 
flows all  bounds  and  lavishes  itself  on  every  needy  thing,  and 
grows  richer  and  mere  abundant  with  the  spending,  a  fountain 
of  inexhaustible  blessing.  There  is  no  nobler  life  possible  to  any 
one  than  to  an  unmarried  woman.  The  more  shame  that  some 
choose  a  selfish  one,  and  thus  turn  to  gall  all  the  affection  with 
which  they  are  endowed.  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer  had  been  Ralph's 


164 


THE    HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 


Sunday-school  teacher,  and  it  was  precious  little,  so  far  as  informa- 
tion went,  that  he  learned  from  her,  for  she  never  could  conceive 


MISS    NANCY    8AWYEK. 

of  Jerusalem  as  a  place  in  any  essential  regard  very  different  from 
Lewisburg,  where  she  had   spent  her  life.     Bat  Ralph  learned 


MISS    NANCY    SAWYER.  155 

from  her  what  most  Sunday-school  teachers  fail  to  teach,  the 
great  lesson  of  Christianity,  by  the  side  of  which  all  antiquities 
and  geographies  and  chronologies  and  exegetics  and  other  niceties 
are  as  nothing. 

And  now  he  turned  the  head  of  the  roan  toward  the  cottage 
of  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer  as  naturally  as  the  roan  would  have  gone 
to  his  own  stall  in  the  stable  at  home.  The  snow  had  gradually 
ceased  to  fall,  and  was  eddying  round  the  house,  when  Ralph  dis- 
mounted from  his  foaming  horse,  and,  carrying  the  still  form  of 
Shocky  as  reverently  as  though  he  had  been  something  heavenly, 
knocked  at  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer's  door. 

With  natural  feminine  instinct  that  lady  started  back  when  she 
saw  Hartsook,  for  she  had  just  built  a  lire  in  the  stove,  and  she 
now  stood  at  the  door  with  unwashed  face  and  uncombed  hair. 

"  Why,  Ralph  Hartsook,  where  did  you  drop  down  from — and 
what  have  you  got  ?  " 

"  I  came  from  Flat  Creek  this  morning,  and  I  brought  you  a 
little  angel  who  has  got  out  of  heaven,  and  needs  some  of  your 
motherly  care." 

Shocky  was  brought  in.  The  chill  shook  him  now  by  fits  only, 
for  a  fever  had  spotted  his  cheeks  already. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  said  Miss  Nancy,  as  she  unwrapped  him. 

"  I'm  Shocky,  a  little  boy  as  God  forgot,  and  then  thought  of 
again." 


156 


THE    HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 


CHAPTER    XXH. 


PANCAKES. 

>ALF  an  hour  later,  Ralph,  having  seen  Miss  Nancy 
Sawyer's  machinery  of  warm  baths  and  simple 
remedies  once  safely  in  operation,  and  having  seen 
?x>T  the  roan  colt  comfortably  stabled,  and  rewarded  for 
his  faithfulness  by  a  bountiful  supply  of  the  best  hay 
and  the  promise  of  oats  when  he  was  cool — half  an  hour  l^ter 
Ralph  was  doing  the  most  ample,  satisfactory,  and  amazing  justice 
to  his  Aunt  Matilda's  hot  -buckwheat-cakes  and  warm  coffee. 
And  after  his  life  in  Flat  Creek  Aunt  Matilda's  house  did  look  like 
paradise.  How  white  the  table-cloth,  how  bright  the  coffee-pot, 
how  clean  the  wood-work,  how  glistening  the  brass  door-knobs, 
how  spotless  everything  that  came  under  the  sovereign  sway  of 
Mrs.  Matilda  White !  For  in  every  Indiana  village  as  large  as 
Lewisburg,  there  are  generally  a  half-dozen  women  who  are  ad- 
mitted  to  be  the  best  housekeepers.  All  others  are  only  imitators. 
And  the  strife  is  between  these  for  the  pre-eminence.  It  is  at 
least  safe  to  say  that  none  hi  Lewisburg  stood  so  high  as  an 


PANCAKES.  157 

enemy  to  dirt,  and  as  a  "  rat,  roach,  and  mouse  exterminator," 
as  did  Mrs.  Matilda  White,  the  wife  of  Ralph's  maternal  uncle, 
Robert  White,  Esq.,  a  lawyer  in  successful  practice.  Of  course 
no  member  of  Mrs.  White's  family  ever  staid  at  home  longer 
than  was  necessary.  Her  husband  found  his  office — which  he 
kept  in  as  bad  a  state  as  possible  in  order  to  maintain  an 
equilibrium  in  his  life — much  more  comfortable  than  the  stiffly 
clean  house  at  home.  From  the  time  that  Ralph  had  come 
to  live  as  a  chore-boy  at  his  uncle's,  he  had  ever  crossed  the 
threshold  of  Aunt  Matilda's  temple  of  cleanliness  with  a  hor- 
rible sense  of  awe.  And  Walter  Johnson,  her  son  by  a  former 
marriage,  had — poor,  weak-willed  fellow  ! — been  driven  into 
bad  company  and  bad  habits  by  the  wretchedness  of  extreme 
civilization.  And  yet  he  showed  the  hereditary  trait,  for  all 
the  genius  which  Mrs.  White  consecrated  to  the  glorious 
work  of  making  her  house  too»  neat  to  be  habitable,  her  son 
Walter  gave  to  tying  exquisite  knots  in  his  colored  cravats 
and  combing  his  oiled  locks  so  as  to  look  like  a  dandy  bar- 
ber. And  she  had  no  other  children.  The  kind  Providence 
that  watches  over  the  destiny  of  children  takes  care  that  very 
few  of  them  are  lodged  in  these  terribly  clean  houses. 

But  Walter  was  not  at  the  table,  and  Ralph  had  so  much 
anxiety  lest  his  absence  should  be  significant  of  evil,  that  he 
did  not  venture  to  inquire  after  him  as  he  sat  there  between 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  White  disposing  of  Aunt  Matilda's  cakes  with  an 
appetite  only  justified  by  his  long  morning  ride  and  the  ex- 
cellence of  the  brown  cakes,  the  golden  honey,  and  the  coffee, 
enriched,  as  Aunt  Matilda's  always  was,  with  the  most  gen- 
erous cream.  Aunt  Matilda  was  so  absorbed  in  telling  of  the 
doings  of  the  Dorcas  Society  that  she  had  entirely  forgotten 


158  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

to  be  surprised  at  the  early  hour  of  Ralph's  arrival.  When 
she  had  described  the  number  of  the  garments  finished  to  be 
sent  to  the  Five  Points  Mission,  or  the  Home  for  the  Friend- 
less, or  the  South  Sea  Islands,  I  forget  which,  Ralph  thought 
he  saw  his  chance,  while  Aunt  Matilda  was  in  a  benevolent 
mood,  to  broach  a  plan  he  had  been  revolving  for  some  time. 
But  when  he  looked  at  Aunt  Matilda's  immaculate — horribly  im- 
maculate— housekeeping,  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  would  have 
said  nothing  had  she  not  inadvertently  opened  the  door  herself. 

"  How  did  you  get  here  so  early,  Ralph  ?  "  and  Aunt  Matilda's 
face  was  shadowed  with  a  coming  rebuke. 

"By  early  rising,"  said  Ralph.  But,  seeing  the  gathering 
frown  on  his  aunt's  brow,  he  hastened  to  tell  the  story  of 
Shocky  as*  well  as  he  could.  Mrs.  White  did  not  give  way 
to  any  impulse  toward  sympathy  until  she  learned  that 
Shocky  was  safely  housod  with  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer. 

"  Yes,  Sister  Sawyer  has  no  family  cares,"  she  said  by  way 
of  smoothing  her  slightly  ruffled  complacency,  "she  has  no 
family  cares,  and  she  can  do  those  things.  Sometimes  I  think 
she  lets  people  impose  on  her  and  keep  her  away  from  the 
means  of  grace,  and  I  spoke  to  our  new  preacher  about  it 
the  last  time  he  was  here,  and  asked  him  to  speak  to  Sister 
Sawyer  about  staying  away  from  the  ordinances  to  wait  on 
everybody,  but  he  is  a  queer  man,  and  he  only  said  that  he 
supposed  Sister  Sawyer  neglected  the  inferior  ordinances  that 
she  might  attend  to  higher  ones.  But  I  don't  see  any  sense 
in  a  minister  of  the  gospel  calling  prayer-meeting  a  lower  ordi- 
nance than  feeding  catnip-tea  to  Mrs.  Brown's  last  baby.  But 
hasn't  this  little  boy — Shocking,  or  what  do  you  call  him? — 
got  any  mother?" 


PANCAKES.  159 

"  Yes,"  said  Ralph,  "  and  that  was  just  what  I  was  going  to 
say."  And  lie  proceeded  to  tell  how  anxious  Shocky  was  to 
see  his  half-blind  mother,  and  actually  ventured  to  wind  up  his 
remarks  by  suggesting  that  Shocky's  mother  be  invited  to  stay 
over  Sunday  in  Aunt  Matilda's  house. 

"  Bless  my  stars !  "  said  that  astounded  saint,  "  fetch  a  pau- 
per here  ?  What  crazy  notions  you  have  got !  Fetch  her  here 
out  of  the  poor-house?  Why,  she  wouldn't  be  fit  to  sleep  in 

my "  here  Aunt  Matilda  choked.  The  bare  thought  of  having 

a  pauper  in  her  billowy  beds,  whose  snowy  whiteness  was  fright- 
ful to  any  ordinary  mortal,  the  bare  thought  of  the  contagion 
of  the  poor-house  taking  possession  of  one  of  her  beds,  smoth- 
ered her.  "And  then  you  know  sore  eyes  are  very  catching." 

Rilph  boiled  a  little.  "  Aunt  Matilda,  do  you  think  Dorcas 
was  afraid  of  sore  eyes  ? " 

It  was  a  center  shot,  and  the  lawyer-uncle,  lawyerlike,  en- 
joyed a  good  hit.  And  he  enjoyed  a  good  hit  at  his  wife  best 
of  all,  for  he  never  ventured  on  one  himself.  But  Aunt  Ma- 
tilda felt  that  a  direct  reply  was  impossible.  She  was  not  a 
lawyer  but  a  woman,  and  so  dodged  the  question  by  making 
a  counter-charge. 

"It  seems  to  me,  Ralph,  that  you  have  picked  up  some 
very  low  associates.  And  you  go  around  at  night,  I  am 
told.  You  get  over  here  by  daylight,  and  I  hear  that  you  have 
made  common  cause  with  a  lame  soldier  who  acts  as  a  spy 
for  thieves,  and  that  your  running  about  of  nights  is  likely  to 
get  you  into  trouble." 

Ralph  was  hit  this  time.  "I  suppose,"  he  said,  "that  you've 
been  listening  to  some  of  Henry  Small's  lies." 

"  Why,  Ralph,  how  you  talk  !     The  worst  sign  of  all  is  that 


160  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-M  ASTER. 

you  abuse  such  a  young  man  as  Dr.  Small,  the  most  exemplary 
Christian  young  man  in  the  county.  And  he  is  a  great  friend 
of  yours,  for  when  he  was  here  last  week  he  did  not  say  a 
word  against  you,  but  looked  so  sorry  when  your  being  in 
trouble  was  mentioned.  Didn't  he,  Mr.  White?" 

Mr.  White,  as  in  duty  bound,  said  yes,  but  he  said  yes  in  a 
cool,  lawyerlike  way,  which  showed  that  he  did  not  take  quite 
so  much  stock  in  Dr.  Small  as  his  wife  did.  Which  was  a 
comfort  to  Ralph,  who  sat  picturing  to  himself  the  silent  flat- 
tery which  Dr.  Small's  eyes  paid  to  his  Aunt  Matilda,  and  the 
quiet  expression  of  pain  that  would  flit  across  his  face  when 
Ralph's  name  was  mentioned.  And  never  until  that  moment 
had  Hartsook  understood  how  masterful  Small's  artifices  were. 
He  had  managed  to  elevate  himself  in  Mrs.  White's  estimation 
and  to  destroy  Rnlph  at  the  same  time,  and  had  managed  to 
do  both  by  a  contraction  of  the  eyebrows  ! 

But  the  silence  was  growing  painful,  and  Ralph  thought  to 
break  it  and  turn  the  current  of  thought  from  himself  by  asking 
after  Mrs.  White's  son. 

"Where  is  Walter?" 

"  Oh !  Walter's  doing  well.  He  went  down  to  Clifty  three 
weeks  ago  to  study  medicine  with  Henry  Small.  He  seems 
so  fond  of  the  doctor,  and  the  doctor  is  such  an  excellent  man 
you  know,  and  I  have  strong  hopes  that  Wallie  will  be  led  to 
see  the  error  of  his  ways  by  his  association  with  Henry.  I 
suppose  he  would  have  gone  to  see  you  but  for  the  unfavor- 
able reports  that  he  heard.  I  hope,  Ralph,  you  too  will  make 
the  friendship  of  Dr.  Small.  And  for  the  sake  of  your  poor, 
dead  mother" — here  Aunt  Matilda  endeavored  to  show  some 
emotion — "  for  the  sake  of  your  poor,  dead  mother " 


PANCAKES.  161 

But  Ralph  heard  no  more.  The  buckwheat-cakes  had  lost 
their  flavor.  He  remembered  that  the  colt  had  not  yet  had 
his  oats,  and  so,  in  the  very  midst  of  Aunt  Matilda's  affecting 
allusion  to  his  mother,  like  a  stiff-necked  reprobate  that  he 
was,  Ralph  Hartsook  rose  abruptly  from  the  table,  put  on  his 
hat,  and  went  out  toward  the  stable. 

"I  declare,"  said  Mrs.  White,  descending  suddenly  from  her 
high  moral  stand-point,  "  I  declare  that  boy  has  stepped  right 
on  the  threshold  of  the  back-door,"  and  she  stuffed  her  white 
handkerchief  into  her  pocket,  and  took  down  the  floor-cloth  to 
wipe  off  the  imperceptible  blemish  left  by  Ralph's  boot-heels. 

And  Mr.  White  followed  his  nephew  to  the  stable  to  request 
that  he  would  be  a  little  careful  what  he  did  about  anybody  in 
the  poor-house,  as  any  trouble  with  the  Joneses  might  defeat 
Mr.  White's  nomination  to  the  judgeship  of  the  Court  of  Com- 
mon Pleas. 


10,2 


THE     HOOSIEB     SCHOOL-MASTER. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 


A    CHARITABLE    INSTITUTION. 

rHEN  Ralph  got  back  to  Miss  Nancy  Saw- 
yer's, Shocky  was  sitting  up  in  bed  talking 
to  Miss  Nancy  and  Miss  Semantha.  His  cheeks 
were  a  little  flushed  with  fever  and  the  excite- 
ment of  telling  his  story;  theirs  were  wet  with  tears. 
"Ralph,"  whispered  Miss  Nancy,  as  she  drew  him  into  the 
kitchen,  "  I  want  you  to  get  a  buggy  or  a  sleigh,  and  go  right 
over  to  the  poor-house  and  fetch  that  boy's  mother  over  here. 
It'll  do  me  more  good  than  any  sermon  I  ever  heard  to  see 
that  boy  in  his  mother's  arms  to-morrow.  We  can  keep  the 
old  lady  over  Sunday." 

Ralph  was  delighted,  so  delighted  that  he  came  near  kissing 
good  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer,  whose  plain  face  was  glorified  by 
her  generosity. 

But  he  did  not  go  to  the  poor-house  immediately.  He  waited 
until  he  saw  Bill  Jones,  the  Superintendent  of  the  Poor-House, 
and  Pete  Jones,  the  County  Commissioner,  who  was  still  some- 


A     CHARITABLE     INSTITUTION.  163 

what  shuck  up,  ride  up  to  the  court-house.  Then  he  drove 
out  of  the  village,  and  presently  hitched  his  horse  to  the  poor- 
house  fence,  and  took  a  survey  of  the  outside.  Forty  hogs, 
nearly  ready  for  slaughter,  wallowed  in  a  pen  in  front  of  the 
forlorn  and  dilapidated  house ;  for  though  the  commissioners 
allowed  a  claim  for  repairs  at  every  meeting,  the  repairs 
were  never  made,  and  it  would  not  do  to  scrutinize  Mr.  Jones's 
bills  too  closely,  unless  you  gave  up  all  hope  of  a  renomination 
to  office.  One  curious  effect  of  political  aspirations  hi  Hoop- 
ole  County,  was  to  shut  the  eyes  that  they  could  not  see,  to 
close  the  ears  that  they  could  not  hear,  and  to  destroy  the 
sense  of  smell.  But  Ralph,  not  being  a  politician,  smelled  the 
hog-pen  without  and  the  stench  within,  and  saw  everywhere  the 
transparent  fraud,  and  heard  the  echo  of  Jones's  cruelty. 

A  weak-eyed  girl  admitted  him,  and  as  he  did  not  wish  to 
make  his  business  known  at  once,  he  affected  a  sort  of  idle 
interest  in  the  place,  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  look  around. 
The  weak-eyed  girl  watched  him.  He  found  that  all  the  women 
with  children,  twenty  persons  in  all,  were  obliged  to  sleep  in 
one  room,  which,  owing  to  the  hill-slope,  was  partly  under 
ground,  and  which  had  but  half  a  window  for  light,  and  no 
ventilation,  except  the  chance  draft  from  the  door.  Jones 
had  declared  that  the  women  with  children  must  stay  there — 
"he  warn't  goin'  to  have  brats  a-runnin'  over  the  whole 
house."  Here  were  vicious  women  and  good  women,  with 
their  children,  crowded  like  chickens  in  a  coop  for  market. 
And  there  were,  as  usual  in  such  places,  helpless,  idiotic  women 
with  illegitimate  children.  Of  course  this  room  was  the  scene 
of  perpetual  quarreling  and  occasional  fighting. 

In    the    quarters  devoted    to  the  insane,   people   slightly  de- 


164  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

mented  and  raving  maniacs  were  in  the  same  rooms,  while 
there  were  also  those  utter  wrecks  which  sat  hi  heaps  on  the 
floor,  mumbling  and  muttering  unintelligible  words,  the  whole 
current  of  their  thoughts  hopelessly  muddied,  turning  around 
upon  itself  in  eddies  never  ending. 

"That  air  woman,"  said  the  weak-eyed  girl,  "used  to  holler 
a  heap  when  she  was  brought  in  here.  But  pap  knows  how 
to  subjue  'em.  He  slapped  her  in  the  mouth  every  tune  she 
hollered.  She  don't  make  no  fur&s  now,  but  jist  sets  down  that 
a-way  all  day,  and  keeps  a-whisperin'." 

Ralph  understood  it.  When  she  came  in  she  was  the  victim 
of  mania ;  but  she  had  been  beaten  into  hopeless  idiocy. 
Indeed  this  state  of  incurable  imbecility  seemed  the  end  to- 
ward which  all  traveled.  Shut  in  these  bare  rooms,  with 
no  treatment,  no  exercise,  no  variety,  and  meager  food,  cases 
of  slight  derangement  soon  grew  into  chronic  lunacy. 

One  young  woman,  called  Phil,  a  sweet-faced  person,  appar- 
ently a  farmer's  wife,  came  up  to  Ralph  and  looked  at  him 
kindly,  playing  with  the  buttons  on  his  coat  in  a  child-like 
simplicity.  Her  blue-drilling  dress  was  sewed  all  over  with 
patches  of  white,  representing  ornamental  buttons,  and  the 
womanly  instinct  toward  adornment  had  in  her  taken  this  child- 
ish turn. 

"Don't  you  think  they  ought  to  let  me  go  home?"  she  said 
with  a  sweetness  and  a  wistful,  longing,  home-sick  look,  that 
touched  Ralph  to  the  heart.  He  looked  at  her,  and  then  at 
the  muttering  crones,  and  he  could  see  no  hope  of  any  better 
fate  for  her.  She  followed  him  round  the  bam-like  rooms, 
returning  every  now  and  then  to  her  question,  "  Don't  you  think 
I  might  go  home  now?" 


A     CHARITABLE     INSTITUTION'. 


165 


The  -weak-eyed  girl  had  been  called  away  for  a  moment,  and 
Ralph  stood  looking  into  a  cell,  where  there  was  a  man  with 
a  gay  rod  plume  in  his  hat  and  a  strip  of  red  flannel  about 
his  waist.  He  strutted  up  and  down  like  a  drill-sergeant. 


POTATO    ON     ONE     SIDE. 

"  I  am  General  Andrew  Jackson,"  he  began.  "  People  don't 
believe  it,  but  I  am.  I  had  my  head  shot  off  at  Bueny  Visty, 
and  the  new  one  that  growed  on  isn't  nigh  so  good  as  the 


166  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

old  one;  it's  tater  on  one  side.  That's  why  they  take  advan- 
tage of  me  to  shut  me  up.  But  I  know  some  things  My 
head  is  tater  on  one  side,  but  it's  all  right  on  t'other.  And 
when  I  know  a  thing  in  the  left  side  of  my  head,  I  know  it. 
Lean  down  here.  Let  me  tell  you  something  out  of  the  left 
side.  Not  out  of  the  tater  side,  mind  ye.  I  wouldn't  a-told 
you  if  he  hadn't  locked  me  up  fer  nothing.  Bill  Jams  is  a 
thief!  He  sells  the  bodies  of  the  dead  paupers,  and  then 
sells  the  empty  coffins  back  to  the  county  agin.  But  that 
a>n't  all " 

Just  then  the  weak-eyed  girl  came  back,  and,  as  Ralph 
moved  away,  General  Jackson  called  out :  "  That  a'n't  all.  I'll 
tell  the  rest  another  time.  And  that  a'n't  out  of  the  tater 
side,  you  can  depend  on  that.  That's  out  of  the  left  side. 
Sound  as  a  nut  on  that  side ! '' 

But  Ralph  began  to  wonder  where  he  should  find  Hannah's 
mother. 

"  Don't  go  in  there ! "  cried  the  weak-eyed  girl,  as  Ralph 
was  opening  a  door.  "  Olc  Mowley's  in  there,  and  she'll  cuss  you." 

"Oh!  well,  if  that's  all,  her  curses  won't  hurt,"  said  Hart- 
sook,  pushing  open  the  door.  But  the  volley  of  blasphemy 
and  vile  language  that  he  received  made  him  stagger.  The  ok! 
hag  paced  the  floor,  abusing  everybody  that  came  in  her  way. 
And  by  the  window,  in  the  same  room,  feeling  the  light  that 
struggled  through  the  dusty  glass  upon  her  face,  sat  a  sorrow- 
ful, intelligent  English  woman.  Ralph  noticed  at  once  that 
she  was  English,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  discovered  that  her 
sight  was  defective.  Could  it  be  that  Hannah's  mother  was 
the  room-mate  of  this  loathsome  creature,  whose  profanity  and 
obscenity  did  not  intermit  for  a  moment? 


A     CHARITABLE     INSTITUTION.  167 

Happily  the  weak-eyed  girl  had  not  dared  to  brave  the  curses 
of  Mowley.  Ralph  stepped  forward  to  the  woman  by  the  win- 
dow, and  greeted  her. 

"  Is  this  Mrs.  Thomson  ?  " 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir,"  she  said,  turning  her  face  toward 
Ralph,  who  could  not  but  remark  the  contrast  between  the 
thorough  refinement  of  her  manner  and  her  coarse,  scant,  un- 
shaped  pauper-frock  of  blue  drilling. 

"  I  saw  your  daughter  yesterday." 

"  Did  you  see  my  boy  ? " 

There  was  a  tremulousness  in  her  voice  and  an  agitation  in 
her  manner  which  disclosed  the  emotion  she  strove  in  vain  to 
conceal.  For  only  the  day  before  Bill  Jones  had  informed 
her  that  Shocky  would  be  bound  out  on  Saturday,  and  that 
she  would  find  that  goin'  agin  him  warn't  a  payin'  business, 
so  much  as  some  others  he  mout  mention. 

Ralph  told  her  about  Shocky's  safety.  I  shall  not  write 
down  the  conversation  here.  Critics  would  say  that  it  was  an 
overwrought  scene.  As  if  all  the  world  were  as  cold  ah  they! 
All  I  can  tell  is  that  this  refined  woman  had  all  she  could 
do  to  control  herself  in  her  eagerness  to  get  out  of  Ler  prison- 
house,  away  from  the  blasphemies  of  Mowley,  away  from  the 
insults  of  Jones,  away  from  the  sights  and  sounds  and  smells 
of  the  place,  and,  above  all,  her  eagerness  to  fly  to  the  little 
shocky-head  from  whom  she  had  been  banished  for  two  years. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  gladly  die  now,  if  she  could 
die  with  that  flaxen  head  upon  her  bosom. 

And  so,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  Bill  Jones's  son,  who 
threatened  her  with  every  sort  of  evil  if  she  left,  Ralph 
wrapped  Mrs.  Thomson's  blue  drilling  in  Nancy  Sawyer's 


168 


THE     IIOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 


and  bore  the  feeble  woman  off  to  Lewisburg.  And  as  they  drove 
away,  a  sad,  childlike  voice  cried  from  the  gratings  of  the  upper 
window,  "Good-by!  good- by!"  Ralph  turned  and  saw  that  it 
was  Phil,  poor  Phil,  for  whom  there  was  no  deliverance.  And 


"GOD  HA' N'T  FOBGOT  us,  MOTHER." 

all  the  way  back  Ralph  pronounced  mental  maledictions  on  the 
Dorcas  Society,  not  for  sending  garments  to  the  Five  Points  or 
the  South  Sea  Islands,  whichever  it  was,  but  for  being  so  blind 


A     CHARITABLE     INSTITUTION.  169 

to  the  sorrow  and  poverty  within  its  reach.  He  did  not  know, 
for  he  had  not  read  the  reports  of  the  Boards  of  State  Charities, 
that  nearly  all  alms-houses  are  very  much  like  this,  and  that 
the  State  of  New  York  is  not  better  in  this  regard  than  In- 
diana. And  he  did  not  know  that  it  is  true  in  almost  all  other 
counties,  as  it  was  in  his  own,  that  "Christian"  people  do  not 
think  enough  of  Christ  to  look  for  him  in  these  lazar-houses. 

And  while  Ralph  denounced  the  Dorcas  Society,  the  eager, 
hungry  heart  of  the  mother  ran,  flew  toward  the  little  white- 
headed  boy. 

No,  I  can  not  do  it ;  I  can  not  tell  you  about  that  meeting. 
I  ain  sure  that  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer's  tea  tasted  exceedingly 
good  to  the  pauper,  who  had  known  nothing  but  cold  water  for 
years,  and  that  the  bread  and  butter  were  delicious  to  a  palate 
that  had  eaten  poor-house  soup  for  dinner,  and  coarse  poor- 
house  bread  and  vile  molasses  for  supper,  and  that  without 
change,  for  three  years.  But  I  can  not  tell  you  how  it  seemed 
that  evening  to  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer,  as  the  poor  English  lady 
sat  in  speechless  ecstasy,  rocking  in  the  old  splint-bottomed 
rocking-chair  in  the  fire-light,  while  she  pressed  to  her  bosom 
with  all  the  might  of  her  enfeebled  arms,  the  form  of  the 
little  Shocky,  who  half-sobbed  and  half-sang,  over  and  over 
again,  "  God  ha'n't  forgot  us,  mother ;  God  ha'n't  forgot  us." 


17X)  THE    HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 


CHAPTER    XXIY. 

THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN. 

'HE  Metliodist  Church  to  which  Mrs.  Matilda 
White  and  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer  belonged  was  the 
leading  one  in  Lewisburg,  as  it  is  in  most  county- 
seat  villages  in  Indiana.  If  I  may  be  permitted  to 
express  my  candid  and  charitable  opinion  of  the 
difference  between  the  two  women,  I  shall  have  to  use  the  old 
Quaker  locution,  and  say  that  Miss  Sawyer  was  a  Methodist 
and  likewise  a  Christian;  Mrs.  White  was  a  Methodist^  but  i 
fear  she  was  not  likewise. 

As  to  the  first  part  of  this  assertion,  there  was  no  room  to 
doubt  Miss  Nancy's  piety.  She  could  get  happy  in  class- 
meeting  (for  who  had  a  better  right?),  and  could  witness  a 
good  experience  in  the  quarterly  love-feast.  But  it  is  not  upon 
these  grounds  that  I  base  my  opinion  of  Miss  Nancy.  Do  not 
even  the  Pharisees  the  same?  She  never  dreamed  that  she  had 
any  right  to  speak  of  "  Christian  Perfection "  (which,  as  Mrs. 
Partington  said  of  total  depravity,  is  an  excellent  doctrine  if  it 


THE     GOOD     SAMARITAN.  171 

is  lived  up  to);  but  when  a  woman's  heart  is  full  of  devout 
affections  and  good  purposes,  when  her  head  devises  liberal  and 
Christlike  things,  when  her  hands  are  always  open  to  the  poor 
and  always  busy  with  acts  of  love  and  self-denial,  and  when 
her  feet  are  ever  eager  to  run  upon  errands  of  mercy,  why,  it 
there  be  anything  worthy  of  being  called  Christian  Perfection 
in  this  world  of  imperfection,  I  do  not  know  why  such  an  one 
does  not  possess  it.  What  need  of  analyzing  her  experiences  in 
vacua  to  find  out  the  state  of  her  soul  ? 

How  Miss  Nancy  managed  to  live  on  her  slender  income  and 
be  so  generous  was  a  perpetual  source  of  perplexity  to  the 
gossips  of  Lewisburg.  And  now  that  she  declared  that  Mrs. 
Thomson  and  Shocky  should  not  return  to  the  poor-house 
there  was  a  general  outcry  from  the  whole  Committee  of 
Intermeddlers  that  she  would  bring  herself  to  the  poor-house 
before  she  died.  But  Nancy  Sawyer  was  the  richest  woman 
in  Lewisburg,  though  nobody  knew  it,  and  she  herself  did  not 
once  suspect  it. 

How  Miss  Nancy  and  the  preacher  conspired  together,  and 
how  they  managed  to  bring  Mrs.  Thomson's  case  up  at  the 
time  of  the  "  Sacramental  Service "  in  the  afternoon  of  that 
Sunday  in  Lewisburg,  and  how  the  preacher  made  a  touching 
statement  of  it  just  before  the  regular  "Collection  for  the 
Poor"  was  taken,  and  how  the  warm-hearted  Methodists  put 
in  dollars  instead  of  dimes  while  the  Presiding  Elder  read 
those  passages  about  Zaccheus  and  other  liberal  people,  and 
how  the  congregation  sang 

"He  dies,  the  Friend  of  Sinners  dies," 

more  lustily  than  ever,  after  having  performed  this  Christian 
act — how  all  this  happened  I  can  not  take  up  the  reader's  time 


172  THE     ROOSTER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

to  tell.  But  I  can  assure  him  that  the  nearly  blind  English 
woman  did  not  room  with  blasphemous  old  Mowley  any  more, 
and  that  the  blue-drilling  pauper  frock  gave  way  to  something 
better,  and  that  grave  little  Shocky  even  danced  with  delight, 
and  declared  that  God  hadn't  forgot,  though  he'd  thought  that 
He  had.  And  Mrs.  Matilda  White  remarked  that  it  was  a 
shame  that  the  collection  for  the  poor  at  a  Methodist  sacra- 
mental service  should  be  given  to  a  woman  who  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Church  of  England,  and  like  as  not  never  soundly 
converted ! 

And  Shocky  slept  in  his  mother's  arms  and  prayed  God  not 
to  forget  Hannah,  while  ShockyV  mother  knit  stockings  for  the 
store  day  and  night,  and  day  and  night  she  prayed  and  hoped. 


BUD    WOOING.  173 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

BUD    WOOING. 

HE  Sunday  that  Ralph  spent  in  Lewisburg,  the 
Sunday  that  Shocky  spent  in  an  Earthly  Paradise, 
the  Sunday  that  Mrs.  Thomson  spent  with  Shocky 
instead  of  old  Mowley,  the  Sunday  that  Miss  Nancy 
thought  was  "just  like  heaven,"  was  also  an  eventful 
Sunday  with  Bud  Means.  He  had  long  adored  Miss  Martha  in 
his  secret  heart,  but,  like  many  other  giants,  while  brave 
enough  to  face  and  fight  dragons,  he  was  a  coward  hi  the 
presence  of  the  woman  that  he  loved.  Let  us  honor  him  for 
it.  The  man  who  loves  a  woman  truly,  reverences  her  pro- 
foundly, and  feels  abashed  hi  her  presence.  The  man  who  is 
never  abashed  hi  the  presence  of  womanhood,  the  man  who 
tells  his  love  without  a  tremor,  is  a  heartless,  shallow  egotist. 
Bud's  nature  was  not  fine.  But  it  was  deep,  true,  and  manly. 
To  him  Martha  Hawkins  was  the  chief  of  women.  What  was 
he  that  he  should  aspire  to  possess  her? 

And  yet  on  that  Sunday,  with    his    crippled   arm  carefully 


174  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOT.-M  ASTER. 

bound  up,  with  his  cleanest  shirt,  and  with  his  heavy  boots 
freshly  oiled  with  the  fat  of  the  raccoon,  he  started  hopefully 
through  fields  white  with  snow  to  the  house  of  Squire  Haw- 
kins. "When  he  started  his  spirits  were  high,  but  they  descended 
exactly  in  proportion  to  his  proximity  to  the  object  of  his 
love.  He  thought  himself  not  dressed  well  enough.  He 
wished  his  shoulders  were  not  so  square,  and  his  arms  not  so 
stout.  He  wished  that  he  had  book-larnin'  enough  to  court  in 
nice,  big  words.  And  so,  by  recounting  his  own  deficiencies, 
he  succeeded  in  making  himself  feel  weak,  and  awkward,  and 
generally  good-for-nothing,  by  the  time  he  walked  up  between 
the  rows  of  dead  hollyhocks  to  the  Squire's  front  door,  to  tap 
at  which  took  all  his  remaining  strength. 

Miss  Martha  received  her  perspiring  lover  most  graciously, 
but  this  only  convinced  Bud  more  than  ever  that  she  was  a 
superior  being.  If  she  had  slighted  him  a  bit,  so  as  to  awaken 
his  combativeness  a  little,  his  bashfulness  would  have  dis- 
appeared. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Martha  inquired  about  his  arm  and  com- 
plimented his  courage.  Bud  could  only  think  of  his  big  feet, 
his  clumsy  hands,  and  his  slow  tongue.  He  answered  in 
monosyllables,  using  his  red  silk  handkerchief  diligently. 

"  Is  your  arm  improving  ?  "  asked  Miss  Hawkins. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is,"  said  Bud,  hastily  crossing  his  right  leg 
over  his  left,  and  trying  to  get  his  fists  out  of  sight. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Mr.  Pearson  ?  " 

"No,  I  ha' n't,"  answered  Bud,  removing  his  right  foot  to  the 
floor  again,  because  it  looked  so  big,  and  trying  to  push  his  left 
hand  into  his  pocket. 

"  Beautiful  sunshine,  isn't  ?  "  said  Martha. 


BUD    WOOING. 


175 


"Yes,  'tis,"  answered  Bud,  sticking  his  right  foot  up  on  the 
rung  of  the  chair  and  putting  his  right  hand  behind  him. 

"  This  snow  looks  like  the  snow  we  have  at  the  East,"  said 
Martha.  "It  snowed  that  way  the  time  I  was  to  Bosting." 


BUD   WOOING. 


"Did  it?"  said  Bud,  not  thinking  of  the  snow  at  all,  nor 
of  Boston,  but  thinking  how  much  better  he  would  have  ap- 
peared had  he  left  his  arms  and  legs  at  home. 


176  THE    HOOSIEK     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"I  suppose  Mr.  Hartsook  rode  your  horse  to  Lewisburg?" 

"Yes,  he  did;"  and  Bud  hung  both  hands  at  his  side. 

"  You  were  very  kind." 

This  set  Bud's  heart  a-going  so  that  he  could  not  say  any- 
thing, but  he  looked  eloquently  at  Miss  Hawkins,  drew  both 
feet  under  the  chair,  and  rammed  his  hands  into  his  pockets. 
Then,  suddenly  remembering  how  awkward  he  must  look,  he 
immediately  pulled  his  hands  out  again,  and  crossed  his  legs. 
There  was  a  silence  of  a  few  minutes,  during  which  Bud  made 
up  his  mind  to  do  the  most  desperate  thing  he  could  think  of — 
to  declare  his  love  and  take  the  consequences. 

"You  see,  Miss  Hawkins,"  he  began,  forgetting  boots  and 
fists  in  his  agony,  "  I  thought  as  how  I'd  come  over  here  to- 
day, and  "—but  here  his  heart  failed  him  utterly—"  and— see— 
you." 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Means." 

"And  I  thought  I'd  tell  you" — Martha  was  sure  it  was 
coming  now,  for  Bud  was  in  dead  earnest — "  and  I  thought  I'd 
just  like  to  tell  you,  ef  I  only  know'd  jest  how  to  tell  it  right"  — 
here  Bud  got  frightened,  and  did  not  dare  close  the  sentence 
as  he  had  intended—"!  thought  as  how  you  might  like  to 

know or  ruther  I  wanted  to  tell  you — that — the — that  I — that 

we— all  of    us— think— that   I— that    we  are   going  to    have    a 
spellin'-school  a  Chewsday  night." 

"  I'm  real  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  the  bland  but  disappointed 
Martha.  "We  used  to  have  spelling-schools  at  the  East."  But 
Miss  Martha  could  not  remember  that  they  had  them  "to 
Bosting." 

Hard  as  it  is  for  a  bashful  man  to  talk,  it  is  still  more  diffi- 
cult for  him  to  close  the  conversation.  Most  men  like  to  leav« 


BUD    WOOING.  17? 

a  favorable  impression,  and  a  bashful  man  is  always  waiting 
with  the  forlorn  hope  that  some  favorable  turn  in  the  talk 
may  let  him  out  without  absolute  discomfiture.  And  so  BucJ 
stayed  a  long  time,  and  how  he  ever  did  get  away  he  never 
could  tell. 


178  THE    HOOSLER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

A    LETTER     AND     ITS     CONSEQUENCES. 


HAUKINS 

this  is  too  Lett  u  no  that  u  beter  be 
Keerful  hoo  yoo  an  yore  familly  tacks  tides  with 
fer  peepl  wont  Stan  it  too  hev  the  Men  wat's 
t)  sportin  the  wuns  wat's  robin  us,  sported  bi  yor 
Fokes  kepin  kumpne  with  'em,*u  been  a  ossifer  ov  the  Lau, 
yor  Ha  wil  bern  as  qick  as  to  an  yor  Barn  tu.  so  Tak  kere. 
No  mor  ad  pressnt." 

This  letter  accomplished  its  purpose.  The  squire's  spectacles 
slipped  off  several  times  while  he  read  it.  His  wig  had  to  be 
adjusted.  If  he  had  been  threatened  personally  he  would  not 
have  minded  it  so  much.  But  the  hay-stacks  were  dearer  to 
him  than  the  apple  of  his  glass  eye.  The  barn  was  more  pre- 
cious than  his  wig.  And  those  who  hoped  to  touch  Bud  in  a 
tender  place  through  this  letter  knew  the  Squire's  weakness  far 
better  than  they  knew  the  spelling-book.  To  see  his  new  red 


A    LETTER    AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES.  179 

barn  with  its  large  "Mormon"  hay-press  inside,  and  the  mounted 
Indian  on  the  vane,  consumed,  was  too  much  for  the  Hawkins 
heart  to  stand.  Evidently  the  danger  was  on  the  side  of  his 
niece.  But  how  should  he  influence  Martha  to  give  up  Bud  ? 
Martha  did  not  value  the  hay-stacks  half  so  highly  as  she  did 
her  lover.  Martha  did  not  think  the  new  red  barn,"  with  the 
great  Mormon  press  inside  and  the  galloping  Indian  on  the 
vane,  worth  half  so  much  as  a  moral  principle  or  a  kind- 
hearted  action.  Martha,  bless  her  !  would  have  sacrificed  any- 
thing rather  than  forsake  the  poor.  But  Squire  Hawkins's  lips 
shut  tight  over  his  false  teeth  in  a  way  that  suggested  astrin- 
gent purse-strings,  and  Squire  Hawkins  could  not  sleep  at  night 
if  the  new  red  barn,  with  the  galloping  Indian  on  the  vane, 
were  hi  danger.  Martha  must  be  reached  some  how. 

So,  with  many  adj  as  tings  of  that  most  adjustable  wig,  with 
many  turnings  of  that  reversible  glass  eye,  the  squire  man- 
aged to  frighten  Martha  by  the  intimation  that  he  had  been 
threatened,  and  to  make  her  understand,  what  it  cost  her  much 
to  understand,  that  she  must  turn  the  cold  shoulder  to  chival- 
rous, awkward  Bud,  whom  she  loved  most  tenderly,  partly,  per- 
haps, because  he  did  not  remind  her  of  anybody  she  knew  at 
the  East. 

Tuesday  evening  was  the  fatal  time.  Spelling-school  was  the 
fatal  occasion.  Bud  was  the  victim.  Pete  Jones  had  his  re- 
venge. For  Bud  had  been  all  the  evening  trying  to  muster 
courage  enough  to  offer  himself  as  Martha's  escort.  He  was 
not  encouraged  by  the  fact  that  he  had  spelled  even  worse 
than  usual,  while  Martha  had  distinguished  herself  by  holding 
her  ground  against  Jeems  Phillips  for  half  an  hour.  But  he 
screwed  his  courage  to  the  sticking  place,  not  by  quoting  to 


180  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

himself  the  adage,  "  Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady,"  which, 
indeed,  he  had  never  heard,  but  by  reminding  himself  that 
"  ef  you  don't  resk  nothin'  you'll  never  git  nothin'."  So,  when 
the  spelling-school  had  adjourned,  he  sidled  up  to  her,  and, 
looking  dreadfully  solemn  and  a  little  foolish,  he  said : 

"  Kin  I  see  you  safe  home  ?  " 

And  she,  with  a  feeling  that  her  uncle's  life  was  in  danger, 
and  that  his  salvation  depended  upon  her  resolution — she,  with 
a  feeling  that  she  was  pronouncing  sentence  of  death  on  her 
own  great  hope,  answered  huskily : 

"  No,  I  thank  you." 

If  she  had  only  known  that  it  was  the  red  barn  with  the 
Indian  on  top  that  was  in  danger,  she  would  probably  have  let 
the  galloping  brave  take  care  of  himself. 

It  seemed  to  Bud,  as  he  walked  home  mortified,  disgraced, 
disappointed,  hopeless,  that  all  the  world  had  gone  down  in  a 
whirlpool  of  despair. 

"  Might  a  knowed  it,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Of  course,  a  smart 
gal  like  Martha  a'n't  agoin'  to  take  a  big,  blunderin'  fool  that 
can't  spell  in  two  syllables.  "What's  the  use  of  tryin'?  A 
Flat  dicker  is  a  Flat  Cricker.  You  can't  make  nothin'  else 
out  of  him,  no  more  nor  you  can  mak  a  China  hog  into  a 
Berkshire." 


A    LOSS    AND    A     GAIN. 


181 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

A     LOSS     AND     A     GAIN. 

R.  SMALL,  silent,  attentive,  assiduous  Dr.  Small, 
set  himself  to  work  to  bind  up  the  wounded 
heart  of  Bud  Means,  even  as  he  had  bound  up  his 
broken  arm.  The  flattery  of  his  fine  eyes,  which 
looked  at  Bud's  muscles  so  admiringly,  which  gave 
attention  to  his  lightest  remark,  was  not  lost  on 
the  young  Flat  Creek  Hercules.  Outwardly  at  least  Pete 
Jones  showed  no  inclination  to  revenge  himself  on  Bud.  Was 
it  respect  for  muscle,  or  was  it  the  influence  of  Small  ?  At 
any  rate,  the  concentrated  extract  of  the  resentment  of  Pete 
Jones  and  his  clique  was  now  ready  to  empty  itself  upon  the 
head  of  Hartsook.  And  Ralph  found  himself  in  his  dire 
extremity  without  even  the  support  of  Bud,  whose  good  resolu- 
tions seemed  to  give  way  all  at  once.  There  have  been  many 
men  of  culture  and  more  favorable  surroundings  who  have 
thrown  themselves  away  with  less  provocation.  As  it  was, 
Bud  quit  school,  avoided  Ralph,  and  seemed  more  than  ever 
under  the  influence  of  Dr.  Small,  besides  becoming  the  intimate 
of  Walter  Johnson,  Small's  student  and  Mrs.  Matilda  White's 
son.  They  made  a  strange  pair — Bud  with  his  firm  jaw  and 


182  THE    BOOSTER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

silent,  cautious  manner,  and  Walter  Johnson  with  his  weak 
chin,  his  nice  cravat-ties,  and  general  dandy  appearance. 

To  be  thus  deserted  in  his  darkest  hour  by  his  only  friend 
was  the  bitterest  ingredient  in  Ralph's  cup.  In  vain  he  sought 
an  interview.  Bud  always  eluded  him.  While  by  all  the  faces 
about  him  Ralph  learned  that  the  storm  was  getting  nearer  and 
nearer  to  himself.  It  might  delay.  If  it  had  been  Pete  Jones 
alone,  it  might  blow  over.  But  Ralph  felt  sure  that  the  re- 
lentless hand  of  Dr.  Small  was  present  in  all  his  troubles. 
And  he  had  only  to  look  into  Small's  eye  to  know  how  inex- 
tinguishable was  a  malignity  that  burned  so  steadily  and  so 
quietly. 

But  there  is  no  cup  of  unmixed  bitterness.  With  an  in- 
nocent man  there  is  no  night  so  dark  that  some  star  does  not 
shine.  Beside  his  religious  faith  Ralph  had  one  strong  sheet- 
anchor.  On  his  return  from  Lewisburg  on  Monday  Bud  had 
handed  him  a  note,  written  on  common  blue  foolscap,  in  round, 
old-fashioned  hand.  It  ran  : 

"Dear  Sir:  Anybody  who  can  do  so  good  a  thing  as  you 
did  for  our  Shocky,  can  not  be  bad.  I  hope  you  will  forgive 
me.  All  the  appearances  in  the  world,  and  all  that  anybody 
says,  can  not  make  me  think  you  anything  else  but  a  good 
man.  I  hope  God  will  reward  you.  You  must  not  answer 
this,  and  you  hadn't  better  see  me  again,  or  think  any  more  of 
what  you  spoke  about  the  other  night.  I  shall  be  a  slave 
for  three  years  more,  and  then  I  must  work  for  my  mother 
and  Shocky;  but  I  felt  so  bad  to  think  that  I  had  spoken  so 
hard  to  you,  that  I  could  not  help  writing  this.  Respectfully, 

"  HANNAH  THOMSON. 
"To  MR.  R.  HARTSOOK,  ESQ." 


A    LOSS     AND     A     GAIN.  183 

Ralph  read  it  over  and  over.  What  else  he  did  with  it  I 
shall  not  tell.  You  want  to  know  if  he  kissed  it,  and  put  it 
in  his  bosom.  Many  a  man  as  intelligent  and  manly  as  Hart- 
sook  has  done  quite  as  foolish  a  thing  as  that.  You  have 
been  a  little  silly  perhaps — if  it  is  silly — and  you  have  acted  in 
a  sentimental  sort  of  a  way  over  such  things.  But  it  would 
never  do  for  me  to  tell  you  what  Ralph  did.  Whether  he  put 
the  letter  in  his  bosom  or  not,  he  put  the  words  in  his  heart, 
and,  metaphorically  speaking,  he  shook  that  little  blue  billet, 
written  on  coarse  foolscap  paper — he  shook  that  little  letter, 
full  of  confidence,  in  the  face  and  eyes  of  all  the  calamities 
that  haunted  him.  If  Hannah  believed  in  him,  the  whole 
world  might  distrust  him.  When  Hannah  was  in  one  scale 
and  the  whole  world  in  the  other,  of  what  account  was  the 
world  ?  Justice  may  be  blind,  but  all  the  pictures  of  blind 
cupids  in  the  world  can  not  make  Love  blind.  And  it  was 
well  that  Ralph  weighed  things  in  this  way.  For  the  time  was 
come  in  which  he  needed  all  the  courage  the  blue  billet  could 
give  him. 


184  THE     HOOSIEB    SCHOOL-MASTER. 


CHAPTER    XXVIIL 

THE  FLIGHT. 

BOUT  ten  days  after  Kalph's  return  to    Flat 

Creek  things  came  to  a  crisis. 
The  master  was  rather  relieved  at  first  to  have 
the  crisis  come.  He  had  been  holding  juvenile 
Flat  Creek  under  his  feet  by  sheer  force  of  will. 
And  such  an  exercise  of  "  psychic  power "  is  very  exhausting. 
In  racing  on  the  Ohio  the  engineer  sometimes  sends  the 
largest  of  the  firemen  to  hold  the  safety-valve  down,  and  this 
he  does  by  hanging  himself  to  the  lever  by  his  hands.  Ralph 
felt  that  he  had  been  holding  the  safety  -  valve  down,  and 
that  he  was  so  weary  of  the  operation  that  an  explosion 
would  be  a  real  relief.  He  was  a  little  tired  of  having  every- 
body look  at  him  as  a  thief.  It  was  a  little  irksome  to  know 
that  new  bolts  were  put  on  the  doors  of  the  houses  in  which 
he  had  staid.  And  now  that  Shocky  was  gone,  and  Bud  had 
turned  against  him,  and  Aunt  Matilda  suspected  him,  and 
even  poor,  weak,  exquisite  Walter  Johnson  would  not  associate 


HANNAH   WITH  A  WHITE,   WHITE  FACE. 


THE     FLIGHT.  187 

with  him,  he  felt  himself  an  outlaw  indeed.  He  would  have 
gone  away  to  Texas  or  the  new  gold-fields  in  California  had 
it  not  been  for  one  thing.  That  letter  on  blue  foolscap  paper 
kept  a  little  warmth  in  his  heart. 

His  course  from  school  on  the  evening  that  something  hap- 
pened lay  through  the  sugar-camp.  Among  the  dark  trunks 
of  the  maples,  solemn  and  lofty  pillars,  he  debated  the  case. 
To  stay,  or  to  flee  ?  The  worn  nerves  could  not  keep  their 
present  tension  much  longer. 

It  was  just  by  the  brook,  or,  as  they  say  hi  Indiana,  the 
"branch,"  that  something  happened  which  brought  him  to  a 
sudden  decision.  Ralph  never  afterward  could  forget  that 
brook.  It  was  a  swift-running  little  stream,  that  did  not  bab- 
ble blatantly  over  the  stones.  It  ran  through  a  thicket  of 
willows,  through  the  sugar-camp,  and  out  into  Means's  pasture. 
Ralph  had  just  passed  through  the  thicket,  had  just  crossed 
the  brook  on  the  half-decayed  log  that  spanned  it,  when,  as 
he  emerged  from  the  water  -  willows  on  the  other  side,  he 
started  with  a  sudden  shock.  For  there  was  Hannah,  with  a 
white,  white  face,  holding  out  a  little  note  folded  like  an  old- 
fashioned  thumb-paper. 

"  Go  quick  ! "  she  stammered  as  she  slipped  it  into  Ralph's 
hand,  inadvertently  touching  his  fingers  with  her  own — a  touch 
that  went  tingling  through  the  school-master's  nerves.  But 
she  had  hardly  said  the  words  until  she  was.  gone  down  the 
brookside  path  and  over  into  the  pasture.  A  few  minutes 
afterward  she  drove  the  cows  up  into  the  lot  and  meekly 
took  her  scolding  from  Mrs.  Means  for  being  gone  sech  an 
awful  long,  tune,  like  a  lazy,  good-fer-nothin'  piece  of  goods 
that  she  was. 


188  THE     IIOOSIEE     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Ralph  opened  the  thumb-paper  note,  written  on  a  page  tore 
from  an  old  copy-book,  in  Bud's  "hand-write"  and  running: 

"Mr.  Heartsook 

"  deer  Sur : 

"i  Put  in  my  best  licks,  taint  no  use.  Run  fer  yore  life. 
A  plans  on  foot  to  tar  an  fether  or  wuss  to-night.  Go  rite 
oft.  Things  is  awful  juberous.  BUD." 

The  first  question  with  Ralph  was  whether  he  could  depend 
on  Bud.  But  he  soon  made  up  his  mind  that  treachery  of  this 
sort  was  not  one  of  his  traits.  He  had  mourned  over  the 
destruction  of  Bud's  good  resolutions  by  Martha  Hawkins's  re- 
fusal, and  being  a  disinterested  party  he  could  have  comforted 
Bud  by  explaining  Martha's  "mitten."  But  he  felt  sure  that 
Bud  was  not  treacherous.  It  was  a  relief,  then,  as  he  stood 
there  to  know  that  the  false  truce  was  over,  and  worst  had 
come  to  worst. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  stay  and  fight.  But  his  nerves  were 
not  strong  enough  to  execute  so  foolhardy  a  resolution.  He 
seemed  to  see  a  man  behind  every  maple-trunk.  Darkness 
was  fast  coming  on,  and  he  knew  that  his  absence  from  sup- 
per at  his  boarding-place  could  not  fail  to  excite  suspicion. 
There  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  So  he  started. 

Let  one  once  start  to  run  from  a  danger,  and  panic  is  apt 
to  ensue.  The  forests,  the  stalk -fields,  the  dark  hollows 
through  which  he  passed,  seemed  to  be  peopled  with  terrors. 
He  knew  Small  and  Jones  well  enough  to  know  that  every 
avenue  of  escape  would  be  carefully  picketed.  So  there  was 
nothing  to  do  but  to  take  the  shortest  path  to  the  ojd  trysting- 
place,  the  Spring-in-rock. 


THE     FLIGHT.  189 

Here  he  sat  and  shook  with  terror.  Mad  with  himself,  he 
Inly  denounced  himself  for  a  coward.  But  the  effect  was 
really  a  physical  one.  The  chill  and  panic  now  were  the  re- 
action from  the  previous  strain. 

For  when  the  sound  of  his  pursuers'  voices  broke  upon  his 
ears  early  in  the  evening,  Ralph  shook  no  more;  the  warm 
blood  set  back  again  toward  the  extremities,  and  his  self-con- 
trol returned  when  he  needed  it.  He  gathered  some  stones 
about  him,  as  the  only  weapons  of  defense  at  hand.  The  mob 
was  on  the  cliff  above.  But  he  thought  that  he  heard  footsteps 
in  the  bed  of  the  creek  below.  If  this  were  so,  there  could  be 
no  doubt  that  his  hiding-place  was  suspected. 

"O  Hank!"  shouted  Bud  from  the  top  of  the  cliff  to  some 
one  in  the  creek  below,  "  be  sure  to  look  at  the  Spring-in- 
rock — I  think  he's  there." 

This  hint  was  not  lost  on  Ralph,  who  speedily  changed  his 
quarters  by  climbing  up  to  a  secluded,  shelflike  ledge  above  the 
spring.  He  was  none  too  soon,  for  Pete  Jones  and  Hank  Banta 
were  soon  looking  all  around  the  spring  for  him,  while  he  held 
a  twenty-pound  stone  over  their  heads  ready  to  drop  upon  them 
hi  case  they  should  think  of  looking  on  the  ledge  above. 

When  the  crowd  were  gone  Ralph  knew  that  one  road  was 
open  to  him.  He  could  follow  down  the  creek  to  Clifty,  and 
thence  he  might  escape.  But,  traveling  down  to  Clifty,  he  de- 
bated whether  it  was  best  to  escape.  To  flee  was  to  confess 
his  guilt,  to  make  himself  an  outlaw,  to  put  an  insurmount- 
able barrier  between  himself  and  Hannah,  whose  terror-stricken 
and  anxious  face  as  she  stood  by  the  brook-willows  haunted 
him  now,  and  was  an  involuntary  witness  to  her  love. 

Long  before  he  reached  Clifty  his   mind  was  made  up  not 


190  THE    HOOSIEB    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

to  flee  another  mile.  He  knocked  at  the  door  of  Squire  Un- 
derwood. But  Squire  Underwood  was  also  a  doctor,  and  had 
been  called  away.  He  knocked  at  the  door  of  Squire  Doo- 
little.  But  Squire  Doolittle  had  gone  to  Lewisburg.  He  was 
about  to  give  up  all  hope  of  being  able  to  surrender  himself 
to  the  law  when  he  met  Squire  Hawkins,  who  had  come  over 
to  Clifty  to  avoid  responsibility  for  the  ill-deeds  of  his  neigh- 
bors which  he  was  powerless  to  prevent. 

"Is  that  you,  Mr.  Hartsook?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  want  you  to  arrest  me  and  try  me  here  in 
Clifty." 


THE     TRIAL.  191 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

THE    TRIAL. 

'HE  "prosecuting  attorney"  (for  so  the  State's  at- 
torney is  called  in  Indiana)  had  been  sent  for  the 
night  before.  Ralph  refused  all  legal  help.  It  was 
not  wise  to  reject  counsel,  but  all  his  blood  was  up, 
and  he  declared  that  he  would  not  be  cleared  by  legal 
quibbles.  If  his  innocence  were  not  made  evident  to  every- 
body, he  would  rather  not  be  acquitted  on  a  preliminary  ex- 
amination. He  would  go  over  to  the  circuit  court  and  have  the 
matter  sifted  to  the  bottom.  But  he  would  have  been  pleased  had 
his  uncle  offered  him  counsel,  though  he  would  have  declined  it. 
He  would  have  felt  better  to  have  had  a  letter  from  home  some- 
what different  from  the  one  he  received  from  his  Aunt  Matilda 
by  the  hand  of  the  prosecuting  attorneyv  It  was  not  very  en- 
couraging or  very  sympathetic,  though  it  was  very  characteristic. 

"  Dear  Ralph : 

"This  is  what  I  have  always  been  afraid  of.  I  warned  you 
faithfully  the  last  time  I  saw  you.  My  skirts  are  clear  of  your 
blood.  I  can  not  consent  for  your  uncle  to  appear  as  your  counsel 


192  THE     IIOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

or  to  go  your  bail.  You  know  how  much  it  would  injure  him  in 
the  county,  and  he  has  no  right  to  suffer  for  your  evil  acts.  O 
my  dear  nephew !  for  the  sake  of  your  poor,  dead  mother " 

We  never  shall  know  what  the  rest  of  that  letter  was.  When- 
ever Aunt  Matilda  got  to  Ralph's  poor,  dead  mother  hi  her  con- 
versation, Ralph  ran  out  of  the  house.  And  now  that  his  poor, 
dead  mother  was  again  made  to  do  service  in  his  aunt's  pious 
rhetoric,  he  landed  the  letter  on  the  hot  coals  before  him,  and 
watched  it  vanish  into  smoke  with  a  grim  satisfaction. 

Ralph  was  a  little  afraid  of  a  mob.  But  Clif ty  was  better  than 
Flat  Creek,  and  Squire  Hawkins,  with  all  his  faults,  loved  justice, 
and  had  a  profound  respect  for  the  majesty  of  the  law,  and  a  pro- 
found respect  for  his  own  majesty  when  sitting  as  a  court  repre- 
senting the  law.  Whatever  maneuvers  he  might  resort  to  hi  busi- 
ness affairs  in  order  to  avoid  a  conflict  with  his  lawless  neighbors, 
he  was  courageous  and  inflexible  on  the  bench.  The  Squire  was 
the  better  part  of  him.  With  the  co-operation  of  the  constable,  he 
had  organized  a  posse  of  men  who  could  be  depended  on  to 
enforce  the  law  against  a  mob. 

By  the  time  the  trial  opened  in  the  large  school-house  in  Clif  ty  at 
eleven  o'clock,  all  the  surrounding  country  had  emptied  its  popu- 
lation into  Clifty,  and  all  Flat  Creek  was  on  hand  ready  to  testify 
to  something.  Those  who  knew  the  least  appeared  to  know  the 
most,  and  were  prodigal  of  their  significant  winks  and  nods. 
Mrs.  Means  had  always  suspected  him.  She  seed  some  mighty 
suspicious  things  about  him  from  the  word  go.  She'd  allers  had 
her  doubts  whether  he  was  jist  the  thing,  and  ef  her  ole  man  had 
axed  her,  liker-n  not  he  never'd  a  been  hired.  She'd  seed  things 
with  her  own  livin'  eyes  that  beat  all  she  ever  seed  in  all  her  born 
days.  And  Pete  Jones  said  he'd  allers  knowed  ther  warn't  no 


THE     TRIAL.  193 

good  in  sech  a  feller.  Couldn't  stny  abed  when  he  got  there. 
And  Granny  Sanders  said,  Law's  sakes  !  nobody'd  ever  a-found 
him  out  ef  it  hadn't  been  fer  her.  Didn't  she  go  all  over  the 
neighborhood  a-warnin'  people  ?  Fer  her  part,  she  seed  straight 
through  that  piece  of  goods.  He  was  fond  of  the  gals,  too  ! 
Nothing  was  so  great  a  crime  in  her  eyes  as  to  be  fond  of  the  gals. 

The  constable  paid  unwitting  tribute  to  William  the  Conqueror 
by  crying  Squire  Hawkins's  court  open  with  an  Oyez  !  or,  as  he 
said  it,  "  O  yes  !"  and  the  Squire  asked  Squire  Underwood,  who 
came  hi  at  that  minute,  to  sit  with  him.  From  the  start,  it  was 
evident  to  Ralph  that  the  prosecuting  attorney  had  been  thor- 
oughly posted  by  Small,  though,  looking  at  that  worthy's  face,  one 
would  have  thought  him  the  most  disinterested  and  philosophical 
spectator  in  the  court-room. 

Bronson,  the  prosecutor,  was  a  young  man,  and  this  was 
his  first  case  since  his  election.  He  was  very  ambitious  to  dis- 
tinguish himself,  very  anxious  to  have  Flat  Creek  influence  on 
his  side  in  politics ;  and,  consequently,  he  was  very  determined 
to  send  Ralph  Hartsook  to  State  prison,  justly  or  unjustly,  by 
fair  means  or  foul.  To  his  professional  eyes  this  was  not  a 
Question  of  right  and  wrong,  not  a  question  of  Jfe  or  death  to 
such  a  man  as  Ralph.  It  was  George  H.  Bronson's  opportunity 
to  distinguish  himself.  And  so,  with  many  knowing  and  con- 
fident nods  and  hints,  and  with  much  deference  to  the  two 
squires,  he  opened  the  case,  affecting  great  indignation  at  Ralph's 
wickedness,  and  uttering  Delphic  hints  about  striped  pants  and 
shaven  head,  and  the  grating  of  prison-doers  at  Jefferson ville. 

"  And,  now,  if  the  court  please,  I  am  about  to  call  a  witness 
whose  testimony  is  very  important  indeed.  Mrs.  Sarah  Jane 
Means  will  please  step  forward  and  be  sworn  " 


194  THE     BOOSTER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

This  Mrs.  Means  did  with  alacrity.  She  had  met  the  prose- 
cutor, and  impressed  him  with  her  dark  hints.  She  was  sworn. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Means,  have  the  goodness  to  tell  us  what  you 
know  of  the  robbery  at  the  house  of  Peter  Schroeder,  and  the 
part  defendant  had  in  it." 

"  Well,  you  see,  I  allers  suspected  that  air  young  man " 

Here  Squire  Underwood  stopped  her,  and  told  her  that  she 
must  not  tell  her  suspicions,  but  facts. 

"Well,  it's  facts  I  am  a-going  to  tell,"  she  sniffed  indig- 
nantly. "  It's  facts  that  I  mean  to  tell."  Here  her  voice  rose 
to  a  keen  pitch,  and  she  began  to  abuse  the  defendant.  Again 
and  again  the  court  insisted  that  she  must  tell  what  there 
was  suspicious  about  the  school-master.  At  last  she  got  it  out. 

"  Well,  f  er  one  thing,  what  kind  of  gals  did  he  go  with  V 
Hey  ?  Why,  with  my  bound  gal,  Hanner,  a  loafin'  along  through 
the  blue-grass  paster  at  ten  o'clock,  and  keepin'  that  gal  that's 
got  no  protector  but  me  out  that  a- way,  and  destroy  in'  her 
character  by  his  company,  that  a'n't  fit  fer  nobody." 

Here  Bronson  saw  that  he  had  caught  a  tartar.  He  said  he 
had  no  more  questions  to  ask  of  Mrs.  Means,  and  that,  unless 
the  defendant  wished  to  cross-question  her,  she  could  stand 
aside.  Ralph  said  he  would  like  to  ask  her  one  question. 

"  Did  I  ever  go  with  your  daughter  Miranda  ? " 

"No,  you  didn't,"  answered  the  witness,  with  a  tone  and  a 
toss  of  the  head  that  let  the  cat  out,  and  set  the  court- room 
in  a  giggle.  Bronson  saw  that  he  was  gaining  nothing,  and 
now  resolved  to  follow  the  line  which  Small  had  indicated. 

Pete  Jones  was  called,  and  swore  point-blenk  that  he  heard 
Ralph  go  out  of  the  house  soon  after  he  went  to  bed,  and 
that  he  heard  him  return  at  two  in  the  morning.  This  testr 


THE     TRIAL.  195 

mony  was  given  without  hesitation,  and  made  a  great  impression 
against  Ralph  in  the  minds  of  the  justices.  Mrs.  Jones,  a  poor, 
brow-beaten  woman,  came  on  the  stand  in  a  frightened  way,  and 
swore  to  the  same  lies  as  her  husband.  Rilph  cross-questioned 
her,  but  her  part  had  been  well  learned. 

There  seemed  now  little  hope  for  Ralph.  But  just  at  this 
moment  who  should  stride  into  the  school-house  but  Pearson, 
the  one-legged,  old-soldier  basket-maker?  He  had  crept  home 
the  night  before,  "to  see  ef  the  ole  woman  didn't  want  some- 
thin',''  and  hearing  of  Ralph's  arrest,  he  concluded  that  the  time 
for  him  to  make  "a  forrard  movement"  had  come,  and  so  he 
determined  to  face  the  foe. 

"Looky  here,  Squar,"  he  said,  wiping  the  perspiration  from 
his  brow,  "  looky  here.  I  jest  want  to  say  that  I  kin  tell  as 
much  about  this  case  as  anybody." 

"  Let  us  hear  it,  then,"  said  Bronson,  who  thought  he  would 
nail  Ralph  now*  for  certain. 

So,  with  many  allusions  to  the  time  he  fit  at  Lundy's  Lane, 
and  some  indignant  remarks  about  the  pack  of  thieves  that 
driv  him  off,  and  a  passing  tribute  to  Miss  Martha  Hawkins, 
and  sundry  other  digressions,  in  which  he  had  to  be  checked, 
the  old  man  told  how  he'd  drunk  whisky  at  Welch's  store 
that  night,  and  how  Welch's  whisky  was  all-fired  mean,  and 
how  it  allers  went  straight  to  his  head,  and  how  he  had  got 
a  leetle  too  much,  and  how  he  had  felt  kyinder  gin  aout  by 
the  time  he  got  to  the  blacksmith's  shop,  an'  how  he  had  laid 
down  to  rest,  and  how  as  he  s'posed  the  boys  had  crated  him, 
and  how  he  thought  it  war  all-fired  mean  to  crate  a  old  soldier 
what  fit  the  Britishers,  and  lost  his  leg  by  one  of  the  blamed 
critters  a  punchin'  his  bagonet  through  it;  and  how  when  he 


196  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

woke  up  it  was  all-fired  cold,  and  how  lie  rolled  off  the  crate 
and  went  on  towards  home,  and  how  when  he  got  up  to  the 
top  of  Means's  hill  he  met  Pete  Jones  and  Bill  Jones,  and  a 
slim  sort  of  a  young  man,  a  ridin' ;  and  how  he  know'd  the 
Joneses  by  ther  hosses,  and  some  more  things  of  that  kyind 
about  'em;  but  he  didn't  know  the  slim  young  man,  tho'  he 
tho't  he  might  tell  him  ef  he  seed  him  agin,  kase  he  was  dressed 
up  so  slick  and  town-like.  But  blamed  ef  he  didn't  think  it 
hard  that  a  passel  of  thieves  sech  as  the  Joneses  should  try  to 
put  ther  mean  things  on  to  a  man  like  the  master,  that  was 
so  kyind  to  him  and  to  Shocky,  tho',  fer  that  matter,  blamed 
ef  he  didn't  think  we  was  all  selfish,  akordin  to  his  tell.  Had 
seed  somebody  that  night  a  crossin'  over  the  blue-grass  paster. 
Didn't  know  who  in  thunder  'twas,  but  it  was  somebody  a 
makin'  straight  fer  Pete  Jones's.  Hadn't  seed  nobody  else, 
'ceptin'  Dr.  Small,  a  short  ways  behind  the  Joneses. 

Hannah  was  now  brought  on  the  stand.  She  was  greatly 
agitated,  and  answered  with  much  reluctance.  Lived  at  Mr. 
Means's.  Was  eighteen  years  of  age  in  October.  Had  been 
bound  to  Mrs.  Means  three  years  ago.  Had  walked  home 
with  Mr.  Hartsook  that  evening,  and,  happening  to  look  out 
of  the  window  toward  morning,  she  saw  some  one  cross  the 
pasture.  Did  not  know  who  it  was.  Thought  it  was  Mr. 
Hartsook.  Here  Mr.  Bronson  (evidently  prompted  by  a  sugges- 
tion that  came  from  what  Small  had  overheard  when  he 
listened  in  the  barn)  asked  her  if  Mr.  Hartsook  had  ever  said 
anything  to  her  about  the  matter  afterward.  After  some  hesi- 
tation, Hannah  said  that  he  had  said  that  he  crossed  the 
pasture.  Of  his  own  accord  ?  No,  she  spoke  of  it  first.  Had 
Mr.  Hartsook  offered  any  explanations?  No,  he  hadn't.  Had 


THE    TRIAL.  197 

he  ever  paid  her  any  attention  afterward  ?  No.  Ralph  declined 
to  cross-question  Hannah.  To  him  she  never  seemed  so  fair 
as  when  telling  the  truth  so  sublimely. 

Bronson  now  informed  the  court  that  this  little  trick  of 
having  the  old  soldier  happen  in,  hi  the  nick  of  time,  wouldn't 
save  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  from  the  just  punishment  which 
an  outraged  law  visited  upon  such  crimes  as  his.  He  regretted 
that  his  duty  as  a  public  prosecutor  caused  it  to  fall  to  his 
lot  to  marshal  the  evidence  that  was  to  blight  the  prospects 
and  blast  the  character,  and  annihilate  for  ever,  so  able  and 
promising  a  young  man,  but  that  the  law  knew  no  difference 
between  the  educated  and  the  uneducated,  and  that  for  his 
part  he  thought  Hartsook  a  most  dangerous  foe  to  the  peace 
of  society.  The  evidence  already  given  fastened  suspicion 
upon  him.  The  prisoner  had  not  yet  been  able  to  break  its 
force  at  all.  The  prisoner  had  not  even  dared  to  try  to  explain 
the  reason  for  his  being  out  at  night  to  a  young  lady.  He 
would  now  conclude  by  giving  the  last  touch  to  the  dark 
evidence  that  would  sink  the  once  fair  name  of  Ralph  Hart- 
sook in  a  hundred  fathoms  of  infamy.  He  would  ask  that 
Henry  Banta  be  called. 

Hank  came  forward  sheepishly,  and  was  sworn.  Lived  about  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  house  that  was  robbed.  He  seen  ole 
man  Pearson  and  the  master  and  one  other  feller  that  he  didn't 
know  come  away  from  there  together  about  one  o'clock.  He 
heerd  the  horses  kickin',  and  went  out  to  the  stable  to  see 
about  them.  He  seed  two  men  come  out  of  Schroeder's  back- 
door and  meet  one  man  standing  at  the  gate.  When  they 
got  closter  he  knowed  Pearson  by  his  wooden  leg  and  the 
master  by  his  hat.  On  cross-examination  he  was  a  little  con- 


198  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

fused  when  asked  why  he  hadn't  told  of  it  before,  but  said 
that  he  was  afraid  to  say  much,  bekase  the  folks  was  a  talkin' 
about  hanging  the  master,  and  he  didn't  want  no  lynchin'. 

The  prosecution  here  rested,  Bronson  maintaining  that  there 
was  enough  evidence  to  justify  Ralph's  committal  to  await 
trial.  But  the  court  thought  that  as  the  defendant  had  no 
counsel  and  offered  no  rebutting  testimony,  it  would  be  only 
fair  to  hear  what  the  prisoner  had  to  say  in  his  own  defense. 

All  this  while  poor  Ralph  was  looking  about  the  room  for 
Bud.  Bud's  actions  had  of  late  been  strangely  contradictory. 
But  had  he  turned  coward  and  deserted  his  friend?  Why  else 
did  he  avoid  the  session  of  the  court  ?  After  asking  himself 
such  questions  as  these,  Ralph  would  wonder  at  his  own  folly. 
What  could  Bud  do  if  he  were  there?  There  was  no  human 
power  that  could  prevent  the  victim  of  so  vile  a  conspiracy  as 
this,  lodging  in  that  worst  of  State  prisons  at  Jeffersonville,  a 
place  too  bad  for  criminals.  But  when  there  is  no  human 
power  to  help,  how  naturally  does  the  human  mind  look  for 
some  intervention  of  God  on  the  side  of  Right!  And  Ralph's 
faith  in  Providence  looked  in  the  direction  of  Bud.  But  since 
no  Bud  came,  he  shut  down  the  valves  and  rose  to  his  feet, 
proudly,  defiantly,  fiercely  calm. 

"  It's  of  no  use  for  me  to  say  anything.  Peter  Jones  has 
sworn  to  a  deliberate  falsehood,  and  he  knows  it.  He  has 
made  his  wife  perjure  her  poor  soul  that  she  dare  not  call  her 
own."  Here  Pete's  fists  clenched,  but  Ralph  in  his  present 
humor  did  not  care  for  mobs.  The  spirit  of  the  bull-dog  had 
complete  possession  of  him.  "  It  is  of  no  use  for  me  to  tell 
you  that  Henry  Banta  has  sworn  to  a  lie,  partly  to  revenge 
himself  on  me  for  sundry  punishments  I  have  given  him,  and 


THE    TKIAL.  199 

partly,  perhaps,  for  money.  The  real  thieves  are  in  this  court- 
room. I  could  put  my  finger  on  them." 

"  To  be  sure,"  responded  the  old  basket-maker.  Ralph  looked 
at  Pete  Jones,  then  at  Small.  The  fiercely  calm  look  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  people.  He  knew  that  this  look  would 
probably  cost  him  his  life  before  the  next  morning.  But  he  did 
not  care  for  life.  "  The  testimony  of  Miss  Hannah  Thomson  is 
every  word  true.  I  believe  that  of  Mr.  Pearson  to  be  true.  The 
rest  is  false.  But  I  can  not  prove  it.  I  know  the  men  I  have 
to  deal  with.  I  shall  not  escape  with  State  prison.  They  will 
not  spare  my  life.  But  the  people  of  Clifty  will  one  day  find 
out  who  are  the  thieves."  Ralph  then  proceeded  to  tell  how  he 
had  left  Pete  Jones's,  Mr.  Jones's  bed  being  uncomfortable; 
how  he  had  walked  through  the  pasture ;  how  he  had  seen 
three  men  on  horseback;  how  he  had  noticed  the  sorrel  with 
the  white  left  forefoot  and  white  nose ;  how  he  had  seen  Dr. 
Small ;  how,  after  his  return,  he  had  heard  some  one  enter  the 
house,  and  how  he  had  recognized  the  horse  the  next  morning. 
"There,"  said  Ralph  desperately,  leveling  his  finger  at  Pete, 
"  there  is  a  man  who  will  yet  see  the  inside  of  a  penitentiary. 
I  shall  not  live  to  see  it,  but  the  rest  of  you  will."  Pete 
quailed.  Ralph's  speech  could  not  of  course  break  the  force  of 
the  testimony  against  him.  But  it  had  its  effect,  and  it  had 
effect  enough  to  alarm  Bronson,  who  rose  and  said : 

"  I  should  like  to  ask  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  one  question." 

"  Ask  me  a  dozen,"  said  Hartsook,  looking  more  like  a  king 
than  a  criminal. 

"  Well,  then,  Mr.  Hartsook.  You  need  not  answer  unless  you 
choose ;  but  what  prompted  you  to  take  the  direction  you  did  in 
your  walk  on  that  evening  ?  " 


200  THE    IIOOSIEB     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

This  shot  brought  Ralph  down.  To  answer  this  question 
truly  would  attach  to  friendless  Hannah  Thomson  some  of  the 
disgrace  that  now  belonged  to  him. 

"  I  decline  to  answer,"  sa?d  Ralph. 

"  Of  course,  I  do  not  want  the  prisoner  to  criminate  himself," 
said  Bronson  significantly. 

During  this  last  passage  Bud  had  come  in,  but,  tt>  Ralph's  dis- 
appointment he  remained  near  the  door,  talking  to  Walter 
Johnson,  who  had  come  with  him.  The  magistrates  put  their 
heads  together  to  fix  the  amount  of  bail,  and,  as  they  differed, 
talked  for  some  minutes.  Small  now  for  the  first  tune  thought 
best  to  make  a  move  in  his  own  proper  person.  He  could 
hardly  have  been  afraid  of  Ralph's  acquittal.  He  may  have  been 
a  little  anxious  at  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been  mentioned, 
and  at  the  significant  look  of  Ralph,  and  he  probably  meant  to 
excite  indignation  enough  against  the  school-master  to  break  the 
force  of  his  speech,  and  secure  the  lynching  of  the  prisoner, 
chiefly  by  people  outside  his  gang.  He  rose,  and  asked  the  court 
in  gentlest  tones  to  hear  him.  He  had  no  personal  interest  in 
this  trial,  except  his  interest  in  the  welfare  of  his  old  school- 
mate, Mr.  Hartsook.  He  was  grieved  and  disappointed  to  find 
the  evidence  against  him  so  damaging,  and  he  would  not  for  the 
world  add  a  feather  to  it,  if  it  were  not  that  his  own  name  had 
been  twice  alluded  to  by  the  defendant,  and  by  his  friend,  and 
perhaps  his  confederate,  John  Pearson.  He  was  prepared  to 
swear  that  he  was  not  over  in  Flat  Creek  the  night  of  the 
robbery  later  than  ten  o'clock,  and  while  the  statements  of  the 
two  persons  alluded  to,  whether  maliciously  intended  or  not, 
could  not  implicate  him  at  all,  he  thought  perhaps  this  lack 
of  veracity  in  their  statements  might  be  of  weight  in  deter- 


THE     TRIAL.  201 

mining  some  other  points.  He  therefore  suggested  —  he  could 
only  suggest,  as  he  was  not  a  party  to  the  case  in  any  way — that 
his  student,  Mr.  Walter  Johnson,  be  called  to  testify  as  to  his — 
Dr.  Small's  —  exact  whereabouts  on  the  night  in  question. 
They  were  together  in  his  office  until  two,  when  he  went  to 
the  tavern  and  went  to  bed. 

Squire  Hawkins,  having  adjusted  his  teeth,  his  wig,  and  his 
glass  eye,  thanked  Dr.  Small  for  a  suggestion  so  valuable,  and 
thought  best  to  put  John  Pearson  under  arrest  before  proceeding 
further.  Mr.  Pearson  was  therefore  arrested,  and  was  heard  to 
mutter  something  about  a  "passel  of  thieves,"  when  the  court 
warned  him  to  be  quiet. 

Walter  Johnson  was  then  called.  But  before  giving  his  testi' 
mony,  I  must  crave  the  reader's  patience  while  I  go  back  to  some 
things  which  happened  nearly  a  week  before,  and  which  will 
serve  to  make  it  intelligible. 


202  THE    HOOSIEB    SCHCKXL-MASTEE. 


CHAPTER      XXX. 

"BROTHER    SODOM." 

order  to  explain  Walter  Johnson's  testimony 
«md  his  state  of  mind,  I  must  carry  the  reader 
back  nearly  a  week.  The  scene  was  Dr.  Small's 
office.  Bud  and  Walter  Johnson  had  been  having 
some  confidential  conversation  that  evening,  and  Bud 
had  gotten  more  out  of  his  companion  than  that  exquisite  but 
weak  young  man  had  intended.  He  looked  round  in  a  fright- 
ened way. 

"  You  see,"  said  Walter,  "  if  Small  knew  I  had  told  you  that, 
I'd  get  a  bullet  some  night  from  somebody.  But  when  you're 
initiated  it'll  be  all  right.  Sometimes  I  wish  I  was  out  of 
it.  But,  you  know,  Small's  this  kind  of  a  man.  He  sees 
through  you.  He  can  look  through  a  door" — and  here  he 
shivered,  and  his  voice  broke  down  into  a  whisper.  But  Bud 
was  perfectly  cool,  and  doubtless  it  was  the  strong  coolness  of 
Bud  that  made  Walter,  who  shuddered  at  a  shadow,  come  to 


"BROTHER   SODOM."  203 

him  for  sympathy  and  unbosom  himself  of  one  of  his  guilty 
secrets. 

"  Let's  go  and  hear  Brother  Sodom  preach  to-night,"  said  Bud. 

"  No,  1  don't  like  to." 

"  He  don't  scare  you  ?  "  There  was  just  a  touch  of  ridicule 
in  Bud's  voice.  He  knew  Walter,  and  he  had  not  counted 
amiss  when  he  used  this  little  goad  to  prick  a  skin  so  sensi- 
tive. "Brother  Sodom"  was  the  nickname  given  by  scoffers 
to  the  preacher — Mr.  Soden — whose  manner  of  preaching  had 
so  aroused  Bud's  combativeness,  and  whose  saddle-stirrups  Bud 
had  helped  to  amputate.  For  reasons  of  his  own,  Bud  thought 
best  to  subject  young  Johnson  to  the  heat  of  Mr.  Soden's 
furnace. 

Peter  Cartwright  boasts  that,  on  a  certain  occasion,  he 
"  shook  his  brimstone  wallet "  over  the  people.  Mr.  Soden 
could  never  preach  without  his  brimstone  wallet.  There  are 
those  of  a  refinement  so  attenuated  that  they  will  not  ad- 
mit that  fear  can  have  any  place  in  religion.  But  a  relig- 
ion without  fear  could  never  have  evangelized  or  civilized  the 
West,  which  at  one  time  bade  fair  to  become  a  perdition  as 
bad  as  any  that  Brother  Sodom  ever  depicted.  And  against 
these  on  the  one  side,  and  the  Brother  Sodoms  on  the  other, 
I  shall  interrupt  my  story  to  put  this  chapter  under  shelter 
of  that  wise  remark  bf  the  great  Dr.  Adam  Clarke,  who  says, 
"  The  fear  of  God  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom,  the  terror  of 
God  confounds  the  soul ; "  and  that  other  saying  of  his :  "  With 
the  fear  of  God  the  love  of  God  is  ever  consistent ;  but  where 
the  terror  of  the  Lord  reigns,  there  can  neither  be  fear,  faith, 
nor  low ;  nay,  nor  hope  either."  And  yet  I  am  not  sure  that 
even  the  Brother  Sodoms  were  made  in  vain. 


204 


THE    HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 


On  this  evening  Mr.  Soden  was  as  terrible  as  usual.  Bud 
heard  him  without  flinching.  Small,  who  sat  farther  forwaid, 
listened  with  pious  approval.  Mr.  Soden,  out  of  distorted  fig- 
ures pieced  together  from  different  passages  of  Scripture,  built 
a  hell,  not  quite  Miltonic,  nor  yet  Dantean,  but  as  Miltonic 
and  Dantean  as  his  unrefined  imagination  could  make  it.  As 
he  rose  toward  his  climax  of  hideous  description,  Walter  John- 
son trembled  from  head  to  foot  and  sat  clo-e  to  Bud.  Then, 

as  burly  Mr.  Soden,  with  great 
gusto,  depicted  materialistic  tor- 
tures that  startled  the  nerves  of 
everybody  except  Bud,  Walter 
wanted  to  leave,  but  Bud  would 
not  let  him.  For  so.me  reason 
he  wished  to  keep  his  compan- 
ion in  the  crucible  as  long  as 
possible. 

"  Young  man ! "  cried  Mr. 
Soden,  and  the  explosive  voice 
seemed  to  come  from  the  hell 
that  he  had  created  —  "  young 
man !  you  who  have  followed  the 
counsel  of  evil  companions" — 
here  he  paused  and  looked  about, 
as  if  trying  to  find  the  man  he  wanted,  while  Walter  crept  up 
close  to  Bud  and  shaded  his  face — "  I  mean  you  who  have  chosen 
evil  pursuits,  and  who  can  not  get  free  from  bad  habits  and  as- 
sociations that  are  dragging  you  down  to  hell !  You  are  standing 
on  the  very  crumbling  brink  of  hell  to-night.  The  smell  of  the 
brimstone  is  on  your  garments;  the  hot  breath  of  hell  i» 


"BUOTIIER   SODOM."  205 

in  your  face !  The  devils  are  waiting  for  you !  Delay  and 
you  are  damned !  You  may  die  before  daylight !  You  may 
never  get  out  that  door!  The  awful  angel  of  death  is  just 
ready  to  strike  you  down  ! "  Here  some  shrieked  with  terror, 
others  sobbed,  and  Brother  Sodom  looked  with  approval  on  the 
storm  he  had  awakened.  The  very  harshness  of  his  tone,  his 
lofty  egotism  of  manner,  that  which  had  roused  all  Bud's  com- 
bativeness,  shook  poor  Walter  as  a  wind  would  shake  a  reed. 
In  the  midst  of  the  general  excitement  he  seized  his  hat  and 
hastened  out  the  door.  Bud  followed,  while  Soilen  shot  his 
lightnings  after  them,  declaring  that  "young  men  who  ran 
away  from  the  truth  would  dwell  in  torments  forever." 

Bud  had  not  count  d  amiss  when  he  thought  that  Mr. 
Soden's  preaching  would  be  likely  to  arouse  so  mean-spirited 
a  fellow  as  Walter.  So  vivid  was  the  impression  that  Jjhn- 
son  begged  Bud  to  return  to  the  office  with  him.  Ha  felt 
sick,  and  was  afraid  that  he  should  die  before  morning  He 
insisted  that  Bud  should  stay  with  him  all  night.  To  this 
Means  readily  consented,  and  by  morning  he  had  h«-ard  all 
that  the  frightened  Walter  had  to  tell. 

And  now  let  us  return  to  the  trial,  where  Ralph  sits  waiting 
the  testimony  of  Walter  Johnson,  which  is  to  prove  lus  state* 
ment  false. 


206  THE     HOOSIBR     SCHOOL-MASTEB. 


CHAPTER    XXXL 

THE     TRIAL     CONCLUDED. 

DO  not  know  how  much  interest  the  "gentle 
reader"  may  feel  in  Bud.  With  me,  he  is  a 
favorite.  And  I  venture  to  hope  that  there  are 
some  Buddhists  among  my  readers  who  will  wish 
the  contradictoriness  of  his  actions  explained. 
The  first  dash  of  disappointment  had  well-nigh  upset  him. 
And  when  a  man  concludes  to  throw  overboard  his  good 
resolutions,  he  always  seeks  to  avoid  the  witness  of  those  reso- 
lutions. Hence  Bud,  after  that  distressful  Tuesday  evening  on 
which  Miss  Martha  had  given  him  "the  sack,"  wished  to  see 
Ralph  less  than  any  one  else.  And  yet  when  he  came  to  sus- 
pect Small's  villainy,  his  whole  nature  revolted  at  it.  But  having 
broken  with  Ralph,  he  thought  it  best  to  maintain  an  attitude 
of  apparent  hostility,  that  he  might  act  as  a  detective,  and,  per- 
haps, save  his  friend  from  the  mischief  that  threatened  him. 
As  soon  as  he  heard  of  Ralph's  arrest,  he  determined  to  make 


THE     TRIAL    CONCLUDED.  207 

Walter  Johnson  tell  his  own  secret  in  court,  because  he  knew 
that  it  would  be  best  for  Ralph  that  Walter  should  tell  it. 
Bud's  telling  at  second-hand  would  not  be  conclusive.  And  he 
sincerely  desired  to  save  Walter  from  prison.  For  Walter  John- 
son was  the  victim  of  Dr.  Small,  or  of  Dr.  Small  and  such  novels 
as  "  The  Pirate's  Bride,"  "  Claude  Duval,"  "  The  Wild  Rover  of 
the  West  Indies,"  and  the  cheap  biographies  of  such  men  as 
Murrcll.  Small  found  him  with  his  imagination  inflamed  by 
the  history  of  such  heroes,  and  opened  to  him  the  path  to  glory 
for  which  he  longed 

The  whole  morning  after  Ralph's  arrest,  Bud  was  working 
on  Walter's  conscience  and  his  fears.  The  poor  fellow,  unable 
to  act  for  himself,  was  torn  asunder  between  the  old  ascendency 
of  Small  and  the  new  ascendency  of  Bud  Means.  Bud  finally 
frightened  him,  by  the  fear  of  the  penitentiary,  into  going  to 
the  place  of  trial.  But  once  inside  the  door,  and  once  in  sight 
of  Small,  who  was  more  to  him  than  God,  or,  rather,  more  to 
him  than  the  devil — for  the  devil  was  Walter's  God,  or,  perhaps, 
I  should  say,  Walter's  God  was  a  devil — once  in  sight  of  Small, 
he  refused  to  move  an  inch  farther.  And  Bud,  after  all  his 
perseverance,  was  about  to  give  up  in  sheer  despair. 

Fortunately,  just  at  that  moment  Small's  desire  to  relieve 
himself  from  the  taint  of  suspicion  and  to  crush  Ralph 
as  completely  as  possible,  made  him  overshoot  the  mark  by 
asking  that  Walter  be  called  to  the  stand,  as  we  have  before 
recounted.  He  knew  that  he  had  no  tool  so  supple  as  the 
cowardly  Walter.  In  the  very  language  of  the  request,  he  had 
given  Walter  an  intimation  of  what  he  wanted  him  to  swear 
to.  Walter  listened  to  Small's  words  as  to  his  doom.  He  felt 
that  he  should  die  of  indecision.  The  perdition  of  a  man  of 


208  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

his  stamp  is  to  have  to  make  up  his  mind.  Such  men  generally 
fall  back  on  some  one  more  positive,  and  take  all  their  resolutions 
ready-made.  But  here  Walter  must  decide  for  himself.  For 
the  constable  was  already  calling  his  name ;  the  court,  the 
spectators,  and,  most  of  all,  Dr.  Small,  were  waiting  for  him. 
He  moved  forward  mechanically  through  the  dense  crowd,  Bud 
following  part  of  the  way  to  whisper,  "  Tell  the  truth  or  go 
to  penitentiary."  Walter  shook  and  shivered  at  this.  The 
witness  with  difficulty  held  up  his  hand  long  enough  to  be  sworn. 

"  Please  tell  the  court,"  said  Bronson,  "  whether  you  know 
anything  of  the  whereabouts  of  Dr.  Small  on  the  night  of  the 
robbery  at  Peter  Schroeder's." 

Small  had  detected  Walter's  agitation,  and,  taking  alarm,  had 
edged  his  way  around  so  as  to  stand  full  in  Walter's  sight,  and 
there,  with  keen,  magnetic  eye  on  the  weak  orbs  of  the  young 
man,  he  was  able  to  assume  his  old  position,  and  sway  the  fellow 
absolutely. 

"  On  the  night  of  the  robbery " — Walter's  voice  was  weak, 
but  he  seemed  to  be  reading  his  answer  out  of  Small's  eyes — 
"  on  the  night  of  the  robbery  Dr.  Small  came  home  be- 
fore  "  here  the  witness  stopped  and  shook  and  shivered 

again.  For  Bud,  detecting  the  effect  of  Small's  gaze,  had 
pushed  his  great  hulk  in  front  of  Small,  and  had  fastened  his 
eyes  on  Walter  with  a  look  that  said,  "Tell  the  truth  or  go 
to  penitentiary." 

"  I  can't,  I  can't.  O  God  !  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  the  witness 
exclaimed,  answering  the  look  of  Bud.  For  it  seemed  to  him 
that  Bud  had  spoken.  To  the  people  and  the  court  this  agitation 
was  inexplicable.  Squire  Hawkins's  wig  got  awry,  his  glass 
eye  turned  in  toward  his  nose,  and  he  had  great  difficulty  in 


THE     TRIAL    CONCLUDED.  209 

keeping  his  teeth  from  falling  out.  The  excitement  became  pain- 
fully intense.  Ralph  was  on  his  feet,  looking  at  the  witness, 
and  feeling  that  somehow  Bud  and  Dr.  Small — his  good  angel 
and  his  demon — were  playing  an  awful  game,  of  which  he  was 
the  stake.  The  crowd  swayed  to  and  fro,  but  remained  utterly  si- 
lent, waiting  to  hear  the  least  whisper  from  the  witness,  who  stood 
trembling  a  moment  with  his  hands  over  his  face,  and  then  faulted. 
The  fainting  of  a  person  in  a  crowd  is  a  signal  for  every- 
body else  to  make  fools  of  themselves.  There  was  a  rush 
toward  the  faulting  man,  there  was  a  cry  for  water.  Everybody 
asked  everybody  else  to  open  the  window,  and  everybody  wished 
everybody  else  to  stand  back  and  give  him  air.  But  nobody 
opened  the  window,  and  nobody  stood  back.  The  only  perfectly 
cool  man  in  the  room  was  Small.  With  a  quiet  air  of  profes- 
sional authority  he  pushed  forward  and  felt  the  patient's  pulse, 
remarking  to  the  court  that  he  thought  it  was  a  sudden  attack 
of  fever  with  delirium.  When  Walter  revived,  Dr.  Small  would 
have  removed  him,  but  Ralph  insisted  that  his  testimony  should 
be  heard.  Under  pretense  of  watching  his  patient,  Small  kept 
close  to  him.  And  Walter  began  the  same  old  story  about  Dr. 
Small's  having  arrived  at  the  office  before  eleven  o'clock,  when 
Bud  came  up  behind  the  doctor  and  fastened  his  eyes  on  the 
witness  with  the  same  significant  look,  and  Walter,  with  visions 
,  of  the  penitentiary  before  him,  halted,  stammered,  and  seemed 
about  to  faint  again. 

"  If  the  court  please,"  said  Bronson,  "  this  witness  is  evidently 
intimidated  by  that  stout  young  man,"  pointing  to  Bud.  "  I  have 
seen  him  twice  interrupt  witness's  testimony  by  casting  threaten- 
ing looks  at  him.  I  trust  the  court  will  have  him  removed  from 
the  court-room." 


210  THE     IIOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

After  a  few  moments'  consultation,  during  which  Squire 
Hawkins  held  his  wig  in  place  with  one  hand  and  alternately 
adjusted  his  eye  and  his  spectacles  with  the  other,  the  magistrates, 
who  were  utterly  bewildered  by  the  turn  things  were  taking, 
decided  that  it  could  do  no  harm,  and  that  it  was  best  to  try 
the  experiment  of  removing  Bud.  Perhaps  Johnson  would  then 
be  able  to  get  through  with  his  testimony.  The  constable  there- 
fore asked  Bud  if  he  would  please  leave  the  room.  Bud  cast 
one  last  look  at  the  witness  and  walked  out  like  a  captive 
bear. 

Ralph  stood  watching  the  receding  form  of  Bud.  The  emer- 
gency had  made  him  as  cool  as  Small  ever  was.  Bud  stopped 
at  the  door,  where  he  was  completely  out  of  sight  of  the  witness, 
concealed  by  the  excited  spectators,  who  stood  on  the  benches  to 
see  what  was  going  on  in  front. 

"  The  witness  will  please  proceed,"  said  Bronson. 

"  If  the  court  please  " — it  was  Ralph  who  spoke — "  I  believe  I 
have  as  much  at  stake  in  this  trial  as  any  one.  That  witness  is 
evidently  intimidated.  But  not  by  Mr.  Means.  I  ask  that  Dr. 
Small  be  removed  out  of  sight  of  the  witness." 

"  A  most  extraordinary  request,  truly. "  This  was  what 
Small's  bland  countenance  said  ;  he  did  not  open  his  lips. 

"It's  no  more  than  fair,"  said  Squire  Hawkins,  adjusting  his 
wig,  "  that  the  witness  be  relieved  of  everything  that  anybody 
might  think  affects  his  voracity  in  this  matter." 

Dr.  Small,  giving  Walter  one  friendly,  appealing  look,  moved 
back  by  the  door,  and  stood  alongside  Bud,  as  meek,  quiet,  and 
disinterested  as  any  man  in  the  house. 

"  The  witness  will  now  proceed  with  his  testimony. "  This  time 
it  was  Squire  Hawkins  who  spoke.  Bronson  had  been  attacked 


THE     TRIAL    CONCLUDED.  211 

with  a  suspicion  that  this  witness  was  not  just  what  he  wanted, 
and  had  relapsed  into  silence. 

Walter's  struggle  was  by  no  means  ended  by  the  disappearance 
of  Small  and  Bud.  There  came  the  recollection  of  his  mother's 
stern  face — a  face  which  had  never  been  a  motive  toward  the 
right,  but  only  a  goad  to  deception.  What  would  she  say  if  he 
should  confess?  Just  as  he  had  recovered  himself,  and  was  about 
to  repeat  the  old  lie  which  had  twice  died  upon  his  lips  at  the 
sight  of  Bud's  look,  he  caught  sight  of  another  face,  which  made 
him  tremble  again.  It  was  the  lofty  and  terrible  countenance  of 
Mr.  Soden.  One  might  have  thought,  from  the  expression  it  wore, 
that  the  seven  last  vials  were  hi  his  hands,  the  seven  apocalyptic 
trumpets  waiting  for  his  lips,  and  the  seven  thunders  sitting  upon 
his  eyebrows.  The  moment  that  Walter  saw  him  he  smelled  the 
brimstone  on  his  own  garments,  he  felt  himself  upon  the  crum- 
bling brink  of  the  precipice,  with  perdition  below  him.  Now  I  am 
sure  that  "  Brother  Sodoms  "  were  not  made  wholly  in  vain.  There 
are  plenty  of  mean-spirited  men  like  Walter  Johnson,  whose  feeble 
consciences  need  all  the  support  they  can  get  from  the  fear 
of  perdition,  and  who  are  incapable  of  any  other  concep- 
tion of  it  than  a  coarse  and  materialistic  one.  Let  us  set  it 
down  to  the  credit  of  Brother  Sodom,  with  his  stiff  stock,  his 
thunderous  face,  and  his  awful  walk,  that  his  influence  over 
Walter  was  on  the  side  of  truth. 

"Please  proceed,"  said  Squire  Hawkins  to  Walter.  The 
Squire's  wig  lay  on  one  side,  he  had  forgotten  to  adjust  his 
eye,  and  he  leaned  forward,  tremulous  with  interest. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Walter,  looking  not  at  the  court  nor  at 
Bronson  nor  at  the  prisoner,  but  furtively  at  Mr.  Soden — 
"well,  then,  if  I  must" — and  Mr.  Soden's  awful  face  seemed 


212  THE     HOOSIEK     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

to  answer  that  he  surely  must — "  well,  then,  I  hope  you  won't 
send  me  to  prison" — this  to  Squire  Hawkins,  whose  face 
re-assured  him — "  but — oh  !  I  don't  see  how  I  can  !  "  But  one 
look  at  Mr.  Soden  assured  him  that  he  could  and  that  he  must, 
and  so,  with  an  agony  painful  to  the  spectators,  he  told  the  story 
in  driblets.  How,  while  yet  in  Lewisburg,  he  had  been  made  a 
member  of  a  gang  of  which  Small  was  chief ;  how  they  concealed 
from  him  the  names  of  all  the  band  except  six,  of  whom  the 
Joneses  and  Small  were  three. 

Here  there  was  a  scuffle  at  the  door.  The  court  demanded 
silence. 

"Dr.  Small's  trying  to  git  out,  plague  take  him,"  said  Bud, 
wbo  otood  with  his  back  planted  against  the  door.  "  I'd  like 
the  court  to  send  and  git  his  trunk  afore  he  has  a  chance  to 
burn  up  all  the  papers  that's  in  it." 

"  Constable,  you  will  arrest  Dr.  Small,  Peter  Jones,  and  William 
Jones.  Send  two  deputies  to  bring  Small's  trunk  into  court," 
said  Squire  Underwood. 

The  prosecuting  attorney  was  silent. 

Walter  then  told  of  the  robbery  at  Schroeder's,  told  where  he 
and  Small  had  whittled  the  fence  while  the  Joneses  entered  the 
house,  and  confirmed  Ralph's  story  by  telling  how  they  had  seen 
Ralph  in  a  fence-corner,  and  how  they  had  met  the  basket-maker 
on  the  hill. 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man,  who  had  not  ventured  to  hold 
up  his  head,  after  he  was  arrested,  until  Walter  began  his  testi- 
mony. 

Walter  felt  inclined  to  stop,  but  he  could  not  do  it,  for  there 
stood  Mr.  Soden,  looking  to  him  like  a  messenger  from  the  skies, 
or  the  bottomless  pit,  sent  to  extort  the  last  word  from  his  guilty 


THE    TRIAL    CONCLUDED.  218 

soul.  He  felt  that  he  was  making  a  clean  breast  of  it  at  the  risk 
of  perdition,  with  the  penitentiary  thrown  in,  if  he  faltered. 
And  so  he  told  the  whole  thing  as  though  it  had  been  the  day  of 
doom,  and  by  the  time  he  was  through,  Small's  trunk  was  in 
court. 

Here  a  new  hubbub  took  place  at  the  door.  It  was  none  other 
than  the  crazy  pauper,  Tom  Bifielcl,  who  personated  General 
Andrew  Jackson  in  the  poor-house.  He  had  caught  some  inkling 
of  the  trial,  and  had  escaped  in  Bill  Jones's  absence.  His  red 
plume  was  flying,  and  in  his  tattered  and  filthy  garb  he  was  in- 
deed a  picturesque  figure. 

"  Squar,"  said  he,  elbowing  his  way  through  the  crowd,  "  I  kin 
tell  you  somethin'.  I'm  Gineral  Andrew  Jackson.  Lost  my 
head  at  Bueny  Visty.  This  head  growed  on.  It  a'n't  good  fer 
much.  One  side's  tater.  But  t'other's  sound  as  a  nut.  Now,  I 
kin  give  you  information." 

Bronson,  with  the  quick  perceptions  of  a  politician,  had  begun 
to  see  which  way  future  winds  would  probably  blow.  "If  the 
court  please,"  he  said,  "  this  man  is  not  wholly  sane,  but  we 
might  get  valuable  information  out  of  him.  I  suggest  that  his 
testimony  be  taken  for  what  it  is  worth." 

"No,  you  don't  swar  me,"  broke  in  the  lunatic.  "Not  if  I 
know's  myself.  You  see,  when  a  feller's  got  one  side  of  his  head 
tater,  he's  mighty  onsartain  like.  You  don't  swar  me,  fer  I  can't 
tell  what  minute  the  tater  side'll  begin  to  talk.  I'm  talkin'  out1- 
of  the  lef  side  now,  and  I'm  all  right.  But  you  don't  swar  me. 
But  ef  you'll  send  some  of  your  constables  out  to  the  barn  at  the 
pore-house  and  look  under  the  hay-mow  in  the  north-east  corner, 
you'll  find  some  things  may  be  as  has  been  a  missin'  fer  some 
time.  And  that  a'n't  out  of  the  tater  side  nuther." 


214  THE     HOOS1ER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Meantime  Bud  did  not  rest.  Hearing  the  nature  of  the  testi- 
mony given  by  Hank  Banta  before  he  entered,  he  attacked  Hank 
and  vowed  he'd  send  him  to  prison  if  he  didn't  make  a  clean 
breast.  Hank  was  a  thorough  coward,  and,  now  that  his  friends 
were  prisoners,  was  ready  enough  to  tell  the  truth  if  he  could  be 
protected  from  prosecution.  Seeing  the  disposition  of  the  prose-- 
cuting  attorney,  Bud  got  from  him  a  promise  that  he  would  do. 
what  he  could  to  protect  Hank.  That  worthy  then  took  the 
stand,  confessed  his  lie,  and  even  told  the  inducement  which  Mr. 
Pete  Jones  had  offered  him  to  perjure  himself. 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Pearson. 

Squire  Hawkins,  turning  his  right  eye  upon  him,  while  the  left 
looked  at  the  ceiling,  said  :  u  Be  careful,  Mr.  Pearson,  or  I  shall 
have  to  punish  you  for  contempt." 

"Why,  Squar,  I  didn't  know  'twas  any  sin  to  hev  a  healthy 
contemp'  fer  sech  a  thief  as  Jones  ! " 

The  Squire  looked  at  Mr.  Pearson  severely,  and  the  latter,  feel- 
ing that  he  had  committed  some  offense  without  knowing  it,  sub- 
sided into  silence. 

Bronson  now  had  a  keen  sense  of  the  direction  of  the  gale. 

"  If  the  court  please,"  said  he,  "  I  have  tried  to  do  my  duty  in 
this  case.  It  was  my  duty  to  prosecute  Mr.  Hartsook,  however 
much  I  might  feel  assured  that  he  was  innocent,  and  that  he 
would  be  able  to  prove  his  innocence.  I  now  enter  a  nolle  in  his 
case  and  that  of  John  Pearson,  and  I  ask  that  this  court  adjourn 
until  to-morrow,  in  order  to  give  me  time  to  examine  the  evidence 
in  the  case  of  the  other  parties  under  arrest.  I  am  proud  to  think 
that  my  efforts  have  been  the  means  of  sifting  the  matter  to  the 
bottom,  of  freeing  Mr.  Hartsook  from  suspicion,  and  of  detecting 
the  real  criminals." 


THE     TRIAL    CONCLUDED.  215 

"  Ugh  ! "  said  Mr.  Pearson,  who  conceived  a  great  dislike  to 
Bronson. 

"  The  court,"  said  Squire  Hawkins,  "  congratulates  Mr.  Hart- 
sook  on  his  triumphant  acquittal.  He  is  discharged  from  the  bar 
of  this  court,  and  from  the  bar  of  public  sentiment,  without  a  sus- 
picion of  guilt.  Constable,  discharge  Ralph  Hartsook  and  John 
Pearson. " 

Old  Jack  Means,  who  had  always  had  a  warm  side  for  the 
master,  now  proposed  three  cheers  for  Mr.  Hartsook,  and  they 
were  given  with  a  will  by  the  people  who  would  have  hanged  him 
an  hour  before. 

Mrs.  Means  gave  it  as  her  opinion  that  "  Jack  Means  allers  wuz 
a  fool !  " 

"  This  court,"  said  Dr.  Underwood,  "  has  one  other  duty  to  per- 
form before  adjourning  for  the  day.  Recall  Hannah  Thomson." 

"  I  jist  started  her  on  ahead  to  git  supper  and  milk  the  cows," 
said  Mrs.  Means.  "  A' n't  agoin'  to  have  her  loafin'  here  all  day." 

"  Constable,  recall  her.  This  court  can  not  adjourn  until  she 
returns  ! " 

Hannah  had  gone  but  a  little  way,  and  was  soon  in  the  presence 
of  the  court,  trembling  for  fear  of  some  new  calamity. 

"  Hannah  Thomson  " — it  was  Squire  Underwood  who  spoke — 
"Hannah  Thomson,  this  court  wishes  to  ask  you  one  or  two 
questions." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  but  her  voice  died  to  a  whisper. 

"  How  old  did  you  say  you  were  ?  " 

"  Eighteen,  sir,  last  October." 

"  Can  you  prove  your  age  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir — by  my  mother." 

"  For  how  long  are  you  bound  to  Mr.  Means  ?  " 


216  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  Till  I'm  twenty-one." 

"  This  court  feels  in  duty  bound  to  inform  you  that,  according 
to  the  laws  of  Indiana,  a  woman  is  of  age  at  eighteen,  and  as  no 
indenture  could  be  made  binding  after  you  had  reached  your 
majority,  you  are  the  victim  of  a  deception.  You  are  free,  and 
if  it  can  be  proven  that  you  have  been  defrauded  by  a  willful 
deception,  a  suit  for  damages  will  lie." 

"  Ugh  ! "  said  Mrs.  Means.  "  You're  a  purty  court,  a'n't  you, 
Dr.  Underwood?" 

"  Be  careful,  Mrs.  Means,  or  I  shall  have  to  fine  you  for  con- 
tempt of  court." 

But  the  people,  who  were  in  the  cheering  humor,  cheered 
Hannah  and  the  justices,  and  then  cheered  Ralph  again.  Granny 
Sanders  shook  hands  with  him,  and  allers  knowed  he'd  come  out 
right.  It  allers  'peared  like  as  if  Dr.  Small  warn't  jist  the  sort  to 
tie  to,  you  know.  And  old  John  Pearson  went  home,  after  drink- 
ing two  or  three  glasses  of  Welch's  whisky,  keeping  time  to  an 
imaginary  triumphal  march,  and  feeling  prouder  than  he  had  ever 
felt  since  he  fit  the  Britishers  under  Scott  at  Lundy's  Lane.  He 
told  his  wife  that  the  master  had  jist  knocked  the  hind-sights  offen 
that  air  young  lawyer  from  Lewisburg. 

Walter  was  held  to  bail  that  he  might  appear  as  a  witness,  and 
Ralph  might  have  sent  his  aunt  a  Roland  for  an  Oliver.  But  he 
only  sent  a  note  to  his  uncle,  asking  him  to  go  Walter's  bail.  If 
he  had  been  resentful,  he  could  not  have  wished  for  a  more  com- 
plete revenge  than  the  day  had  brought. 


AFTEIt     THE     BATTLE. 


217 


CHAPTER    XXXH. 


AFTER      THE      BATTLE. 

OTHING-  can  be  more  demoralizing  in  the 
long  run  than  lynch  law.  And  yet  lynch  law 
often  originates  in  a  burst  of  generous  indignation 
which  is  not  willing  to  suffer  a  bold  oppressor  to 
escape  by  means  of  corrupt  and  cowardly  courts. 
It  is  oftener  born  of  fear.  Both  motives  powerfully  agitated 
the  people  of  the  region  round  about  Clifty  as  night  drew  on 
after  Ralph's  acquittal.  They  were  justly  indignant  that  Ralph 
had  been  made  the  victim  of  such  a  conspiracy,  and  they  were 
frightened  at  the  unseen  danger  to  the  community  from  such  a 
band  as  that  of  Small's.  It  was  certain  that  they  did  not  know 
the  full  extent  of  the  danger  as  yet.  And  what  Small  might  do 
with  a  jury,  or  what  Pete  Jones  might  do  with  a  sheriff,  was  a 
question.  I  must  not  detain  the  reader  to  tell  how  the  mob 
rose.  Nobody  knows  how  such  things  come  about.  Their  origin 
is  as  inexplicable  as  that  of  an  earthquake.  But,  at  any  rate, 
a  rope  was  twice  put  round  Small's  neck  during  that  night,  and 


218  THE     HOOSIER     SCHOOL-MASTER. 

both  times  Small  was  saved  only  by  the  nerve  and  address  of 
Ralph,  who  had  learned  how  unjust  mob  law  may  be.  As  for 
Small,  he  neither  trembled  when  they  were  ready  to  hang  him, 
nor  looked  relieved  when  he  was  saved,  nor  showed  the  slightest 
flush  of  penitence  or  gratitude.  He  bore  himself  in  a  quiet, 
gentlemanly  way  throughout,  like  the  admirable  villain  that 
he  was. 

He  waived  a  preliminary  examination  the  next  day ;  his  father 
went  his  bail,  and  he  forfeited  his  bail  and  disappeared  from  the 
county  and  from  the  horizon  of  my  story.  Two  reports  con- 
cerning Small  have  been  in  circulation — one  that  he  was  run- 
ning a  faro-bank  hi  San  Francisco,  the  other  that  he  war  curing 
consumption  by  inhalation  and  electricity  here  in  New  York. 
If  this  latter  were  true,  it  would  leave  it  an  open  question 
whether  Ralph  did  well  to  save  him  from  the  gallows.  Pete 
Jones  and  Bill,  as  usually  happens  to  the  rougher  villains,  went 
to  prison,  and  when  then*  terms  had  expired  moved  to  Pike 
County,  Missouri. 

But  it  is  about  Hannah  that  you  want  to  hear,  and  that  I 
want  to  tell.  She  went  straight  from  the  court-room  to  Flat 
Creek,  climbed  to  her  chamber,  packed  all  her  earthly  goods, 
consisting  chiefly  of  a  few  family  relics,  in  a  handkerchief, 
and  turned  her  back  on  the  house  of  Means  forever.  At  the  gate 
she  met  the  old  woman,  who  shook  her  fist  in  the  girl's  face  and 
gave  her  a  parting  benediction  in  the  words:  "You  mis'able, 
ongrateful  critter  you,  go  'long  !  I'm  glad  to  be  shed  of  you ! " 
At  the  barn  she  met  Bud,  and  he  told  her  good-by  with  a  little 
huskiness  in  his  voice,  while  a  tear  glistened  hi  her  eye.  Bud  had 
been  a  friend  in  need,  and  such  a  friend  one  does  not  leave 
without  a  pang. 


AFTER    THE     BATTLE.  219 

**  Where  are  you  going  ?    Can  I " 

"  No,  no  ! "  And  with  that  she  hastened  on,  afraid  that  Bud 
would  offer  to  hitch  up  the  roan  colt.  And  she  did  not  want  to 
add  to  his  domestic  unhappiness  by  compromising  him  in  that 
way 

It  was  dusk  and  raining  when  she  left.  The  hours  were 
long,  the  road  was  lonely,  and  after  the  revelations  of  that  day 
it  did  not  seem  wholly  safe.  But  from  the  moment  that  she 
found  herself  free,  her  heart  had  heen  ready  to  break  with  an 
impatient  home-sickness.  What  though  there  might  be  robbers 
in  the  woods?  What  though  there  were  ten  rough  miles  to 
travel  ?  What  though  the  rain  was  in  her  face  ?  What  though 
she  had  not  tasted  food  since  the  morning  of  that  exciting  day  ? 
Flat  Creek  and  bondage  were  behind ;  freedom,  mother,  Shocky, 
and  home  were  before  her,  and  her  feet  grew  lighter  with  the 
thought.  And  if  she  needed  any  other  joy,  it  was  to  know 
that  the  master  was  clear.  And  he  would  come !  And  so  she 
traversed  the  weary  distance,  and  so  she  inquired  and  found 
the  house,  the  beautiful,  homely  old  house  of  beautiful,  homely 
old  Nancy  Sawyer,  and  knocked,  and  was  admitted,  and  fell  down, 
faint  and  weary,  at  her  blind  mother's  feet,  and  laid  her  tired  head 
in  her  mother's  lap  and  wept,  and  wept  like  a  child,  and  said, 
"  O  mother !  I'm  free,  I'm  free ! "  while  the  mother's  tears 
baptized  her  face,  and  the  mother's  trembling  fingers  combed  out 
her  tresses.  And  Shocky  stood  by  her  and  cried :  "  I  knowed 
God  wouldn't  forget  you,  Hanner  ! " 

Hannah  was  ready  now  to  do  anything  by  which  she  could 
support  her  mother  and  Shocky.  She  was  strong,  and  inured 
to  toil.  She  was  willing  and  cheerful,  and  she  would  gladly 
have  gone  to  service  if  by  that  means  she  could  have 


220  THE    HOOSIEB    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

supported  the  family.  And,  for  that  matter,  her  mother  was 
already  nearly  able  to  support  herself  by  her  knitting.  But 
Hannah  had  been  carefully  educated  when  young,  and  at  that 
moment  the  old  public  schools  were  being  organized  into  a 
graded  school,  and  the  good  minister,  who  shall  be  nameless, 
because  he  is,  perhaps,  still  living  in  Indiana,  and  who  in  Meth- 
odist parlance  was  called  "the  preacher-in-charge  of  Lewisburg 
Station  " — this  good  minister  and  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer  got  Hannah 
a  place  as  teacher  of  a  primary  department.  And  then  a  little 
house  with  four  rooms  was  rented,  and  a  little,  a  very  little  furni- 
ture was  put  into  it,  and  the  old,  sweet  home  was  established 
again.  The  father  was  gone,  never  to  come  back  again.  But 
the  rest  were  here.  And  somehow  Hannah  kept  waiting  for 
somebody  else  to  come. 


INTO    THE    LIGHT, 


221 


CHAPTER     XXXIII. 


INTO    THE    LIGHT. 

'OR  two  weeks  longer  Ralph  taught  at  the  Flat 
Creek  school-house.  He  was  everybody's  hero. 
And  he  was  Bud's  idol.  He  did  what  he  could  to 
get  Bud  and  Martha  together,  and  though  Bud  always 
"  saw  her  safe  home  "  after  this,  and  called  on  her 
every  Sunday  evening,  yet,  to  save  his  life,  he  could  not  forget 
his  big  fists  and  his  big  feet  long  enough  to  say  what  he  most 
wanted  to  say,  and  what  Martha  most  wanted  him  to  say. 

At  the  end  of  two  weeks  Ralph  found  himself  exceedingly 
weary  of  Flat  Creek,  and  exceedingly  glad  to  hear  from  Mr.  Means 
that  the  school-money  had  "gin  aout."  It  gave  him  a  good 
excuse  to  return  to  Lewisburg,  where  his  heart  and  his  treasure 
were.  A  certain  sense  of  delicacy  had  kept  him  from  writing  to 
Hannah  just  yet. 

When  he  got  to  Lewisburg  he  had  good  news.  His  uncle, 
ashamed  of  his  previous  neglect,  and  perhaps  with  an  eye  to  his 


222  THE     HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

nephew's  growing  popularity,  had  gotten  him  the  charge  of  the 
grammar  department  in  the  new  graded  school  in  the  village.  So 
he  quietly  arranged  to  board  at  a  boarding-house.  His  aunt  could 
not  have  him  about,  of  which  fact  he  was  very  glad.  She  could 
not  but  feel,  she  said,  that  he  might  have  taken  better  care  of 
Walter  than  he  did,  when  they  were  only  four  miles  apart. 

He  did  not  hasten  to  call  on  Hannah.  Why  should  he  ?  He 
sent  her  a  message,  of  no  consequence  in  itself,  by  Nancy  Sawyer. 
Then  he  took  possession  of  his  school ;  and  then,  on  the  evening 
of  the  first  day  of  school,  he  went,  as  he  had  appointed  to  himself, 
to  see  Hannah  Thomson. 

And  she,  with  some  sweet  presentiment,  had  gotten  things  ready 
by  fixing  up  the  scantily-furnished  room  as  well  as  she  could. 
And  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer,  who  had  seen  Ralph  that  afternoon,  had 
guessed  that  he  was  going  to  see  Hannah.  It's  wonderful  how 
much  enjoyment  a  generous  heart  can  get  out  of  the  happiness  of 
others.  Is  not  that  what  He  meant  when  he  said  of  such  as  Miss 
Sawyer  that  they  should  have  a  hundred-fold  in  this  life  for  all 
their  sacrifices  ?  Did  not  Miss  Nancy  enjoy  a  hundred  weddings, 
and  love  and  have  the  love  of  five  hundred  children  ?  And  so  Miss 
Nancy  just  happened  over  at  Mrs.  Thomson's  humble  home,  and, 
just  in  the  most  matter-of-course  way,  asked  that  lady  and  Shocky 
to  come  over  to  her  house.  Shocky  wanted  Hannah  to  come  too. 
But  Hannah  blushed  a  little,  and  said  that  she  would  rather  not. 

And  when  she  was  left  alone,  Hannah  fixed  her  hair  two  or 
three  times,  and  swept  the  hearth,  and  moved  the  chairs  first  one 
way  and  then  another,  and  did  a  good  many  other  needless  things. 
Needless:  for  a  lover,  if  he  be  lover,  does  not  see  furniture 
or  dress. 

And  then  she  sat  down  by  the  fire,  and  tried  to  sew,  and  tried  to 


INTO     THE     LIGHT.  223 

look  unconcerned,  and  tried  to  feel  unconcerned,  and  tried  not  to 
expect  anybody,  and  tried  to  make  her  heart  keep  still.  And  tried 
in  vain.  For  a  gentle  rap  at  the  door  sent  her  pulse  up  twenty 
beats  a  minute  and  made  her  face  burn.  And  Hartsook  was,  for 
the  first  time,  abashed  in  the  presence  of  Hannah.  For  the 
oppressed  girl  had,  in  two  weeks,  blossomed  out  into  the  full- 
blown woman. 

And  Ralph  sat  down  by  the  fire,  and  talked  of  his  school  and 
her  school,  and  everything  else  but  what  he  wanted  to  talk  about. 
And  then  the  conversation  drifted  back  to  Flat  Creek,  and  to  the 
walk  through  the  pasture,  and  to  the  box-alder  tree,  and  to  the 
painful  talk  in  the  lane.  And  Hannah  begged  to  be  forgiven,  and 
Ralph  laughed  at  the  idea  that  she  had  done  anything  wrong. 
And  she  praised  his  goodness  to  Shocky,  and  he  drew  her  little 

note  out  of But  I  agreed  not  tell  you  where  he  kept  it.    And 

then  she  blushed,  and  he  told  how  the  note  had  sustained  him,  and 
how  her  white  face  kept  up  his  courage  in  his  flight  down  the 
bed  of  Clifty  Creek.  And  he  sat  a  little  nearer,  to  show  her  the 

note   that  he  had  carried  in  his  bosom I    have   told  it  ! 

And but  I  must  not  proceed.    A  love-scene,  ever  so  beautiful 

in  itself,  will  not  bear  telling.     And  so  I  shall  leave  a  little  gap 

just  here,  which  you  may  fill  up  as  you  please 

Somehow,  they  never  knew  how,  they  got  to  talking  about  the 
future  instead  of  the  past,  after  that,  and  to  planning  their  two 

lives    as    one    life.      And And    when    Miss 

!  Nancy  and  Mrs.  Thomson  returned  later  in  the  evening,  Ralph 
was  standing  by  the  mantel-piece,  but  Shocky  noticed  that  his 
chair  was  close  to  Hannah's.  And  good  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer 
looked  in  Hannah's  face  and  was  happy. 


224 


THE    HOOSIER    SCHOOL-MASTER, 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 


"HOW       IT      CAME      OUT." 

rE    are    all   children    in   reading    stories.     We 
want    more    than    all    else    to    know    how    it 
all  came  out  at  the  end,  and,  if  our  taste  is  not 
perverted,  we  like  it  to  come  out  well.    For  my 
part,   ever  since   I   began   to   write   this   story,  I 
have  been  anxious  to  know  how  it  was  going  to  come  out. 

Well,  there  were  very  few  invited.  It  took  place  at  ten  hi 
the  morning.  The  "  preacher  -  in  -  charge "  came,  of  course. 
Miss  Nancy  Sawyer  was  there.  But  Ralph's  uncle  was  away, 
and  Aunt  Matilda  had  a  sore  throat  and  couldn't  come.  Per- 
haps the  memory  of  the  fact  that  she  had  refused  Mrs.  Thomson, 
the  pauper,  a  bed  for  two  nights,  affected  her  throat.  But 
Miss  Nancy  and  her  sister  were  there,  and  the  preacher.  And 
that  was  all,  beside  the  family,  and  Bud  and  Martha.  Of  course 
Bud  and  Martha  came.  And  driving  Martha  to  a  wedding  in 
a  "jumper"  was  the  one  opportunity  Bud  needed.  His  hands 


225 


were  busy,  his  big  boots  were  out  of  sight,  and  it  was  so  easy 
to  slip  from  Ralph's  love  affair  to  his  own,  that  Bud  some 
how,  in  pulling  Martha  Hawkins's  shawl  about  her,  stammered 
out  half  a  proposal,  which  Martha,  generous  soul,  took  for 
fthe  whole  ceremony,  and  accepted.  And  Bud  was  so  happy 
that  Ralph  guessed  from  his  face  and  voice  that  the  agony 
was  over,  and  Bud  was  betrothed  at  last  to  the  "gal  as  was 
a  gal." 

And  after  Ralph  and  Hannah  were  married — there  was  no 
trip,  Ralph  only  changed  his  boarding-place  and  became  head 
of  the  house  a.t  Mrs.  Thomson's  thereafter — after  it  was  all 
over,  Bud  came  to  Mr.  Hartsook,  and,  snickering  just  a  little, 
said  as  how  as  him  and  Martha  had  fixed  it  all  up,  and  now 
they  wanted  to  ax  his  advice ;  and  Martha,  proud  but  blushing, 
came  up  and  nodded  assent.  Bud  said  as  how  as  he  hadn't 
got  no  book-larniri'  nor  nothin',  and  as  how  as  he  wanted  to 
be  somethin',  and  put  in  his  best  licks  fer  Him,  you  know. 
And  that  Marthy,  she  was  of  the  same  way  of  thinkin',  and 
that  was  a  blessin'.  And  the  Squire  was  a  goin'  to  marry 
agin',  and  Marthy  would  ruther  vacate.  And  his  mother  and 
Mirandy  was  sech  as  he  wouldn't  take  no  wife  to.  And  he 
thought  as  how  Mr.  Hartsook  might  think  of  some  way  or 
some  place  where  he  and  Marthy  mout  make  a  livin'  fer  the 
present,  and  put  in  their  best  licks  fer  Him,  you  know. 

Ralph  thought  a  moment.  He  was  about  to  make  an  allusion 
to  Hercules  and  the  Augean  stables,  but  he  remembered  that 
Bud  would  not  understand  it,  though  it  might  remind  Martha 
of  something  she  had  seen  at  the  East,  the  time  she  was  to 
Bosting. 

"  Bud,  my  dear  friend,"   said  Ralph,  "  it  looks  a  little  hard 


226  THE    HOOSIEK    SCHOOL-MASTER. 

to  ask  you  to  take  a  new  wife  "—here  Bud  looked  admiringly 
at  Martha— "to  the  poor-house.  But  I  don't  know  anywhere 
where  you  can  do  so  much  good  for  Christ  as  by  taking  charge 
of  that  place,  and  I  can  get  the  appointment  for  you.  The 
new  commissioners  want  just  such  a  man." 

"What  d'ye  say,  Marthy?"  said  Bud. 

"Why,  somebody  ought  to  do  for  the  poor,  and  I  should 
like  to  do  it." 

And  so  Hercules  cleaned  the  Augean  stables. 

And  so  my  humble,  homely  Hoosier  story  of  twenty  years 
ago  draws  to  a  close,  and,  not  without  regret,  I  take  leave  of 
Ralph,  and  Hannah,  and  Shocky,  and  Bud,  and  Martha,  and 
Miss  Nancy,  and  of  my  readers. 


P.  8. — A  copy  of  the  Lewisburg  Jeffersonian  came  into  my 
hands  to-day,  and  I  see  by  its  columns  that  Ralph  Hart- 
sook  is  principal  of  the  Lewisburg  Academy.  It  took  me 
some  time,  however,  to  make  out  that  the  sheriff  of  the  county, 
Mr.  Israel  W.  Means,  was  none  other  than  my  old  friend  Bud, 
of  the  Church  of  the  Best  Licks.  I  was  almost  as  much 
puzzled  over  his  name  as  I  was  when  I  saw  an  article  hi  a 
city  paper,  by  Prof.  W.  J.  Thomson,  on  Poor-Houses.  I  should 
not  have  recognized  the  writer  as  Shocky,  had  I  not  known 
that  Shocky  has  given  all  his  spare  time  to  making  outcasts 
feel  that  God  has  not  forgot.  For,  indeed,  God  never  forgets. 
But  some  of  those  to  whom  he  intrusts  his  work  do  forget. 


i:  ii  IB 


END  OF  THE  WORLD. 

A   LOVE    STORY. 

BY 

EDWARD     ECOLESTON, 

Author  of  "The  Hoosier  School-master,"  etc, 

With    15    full    page    Engravings,    and    numerous    otteer 
Flue    Illustrations. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I.— In  Love  with  a  Dutchman. 
II. — An  Expl«sion. 
lit.— A  Farewell. 
IV.— A  Counter-Irritant. 
V.— At  the  Castle. 
VI.— The  Backwoods  Philosopher. 
VII.—  Within  and  Without. 
VIII.—  Figgers  won't  Lie. 
IX.— The  New  Singing-Master. 
X.— An  Oft'cr  of  Help. 
XL— Tho  Coon-dog  Argument. 
XII. —Two  Mistakes. 
XIII.— The  Spider  Spins. 
XIV.— The  Spider's  Web. 
XV.-The  Web  Broken. 
XVI.— Jonas  Expounds  the  Subject. 
XVII. -The  Wrong  Few. 
XVIII.— The  Encounter. 
XIX.— The  Mother. 
XX.— The  Steam-Doctor. 
XXL— The  Hawk  in  a  New  Tart. 
XXII.— Jonas  Expresses  his  Opinion 

on  Dutchmen. 

XXIII.—  Somethin'  Ludikerous. 
XXIV.— The  Giant  Great-heart. 
XXV.— A  Chapter  of  Betweens. 


CHAPTER 

XXVL— A  Nice  Little  Game. 
XX  VII.— The  Result  of  an  Evening 

with  Gentlemen. 

XXVIII. —Waking  up  an  Ugly  Cus- 
tomer. 

XXIX.— August  and  Norman. 
XXX.— Aground. 
XXXI.— Cynthy  Ann's  Sacrifice. 
XXXII.— Julia's  Enterprise. 
XXXIII.— The  Secret  Stairway. 
XXXIV.— The  Interview. 
XXXV.-Getting    Ready    for   the 

End. 

XXXVI. -The  Sin  of  Sanctimony. 
XXXVIL— The  Deluge. 
XXXVIIL— Scaring  a  Hawk. 
XXXIX. — Jonas  takes  an  Appeal. 
XL.— Selling  Out, 
XLL— The  Last  Day  and  What 

Happened  in  it. 
XLII.— For  Ever  and  Ever. 
XLIIL— The  Midnight  Alarm. 
XLIV.— Squaring  Accounts. 
XLV.— New  Plans. 
XLVI.— The  Shiveree. 


Post-paid 


O.  JUDD   CO., 
DAVID  W.  JUDD,  Pres't.  SAM'L  BURNHAM,  Sec. 

751    BROADWAY,  NEW    YORK. 


THE    MYSTERY 

OP 

METROPOLISVILLE. 

By   EDWARD    EGGLESTON, 

Author  of  "The  Hoosier  School-Master,"  "TJie  End  of  the  World, 

etc. 

With.    Thirteen    Illustrations. 


CONTENTS. 

Preface.— Words  Beforehand.  Chapter  1.  The  Autocrat  of  the 
Stage-Coach.— 2.  The  Sod  Tavern.— 3.  Land  and  Love.— 4.  Albert 
and  Katy. — 5.  Corner  Lots. — 6.  Little  Katy's  Lover. — 7.  Catching 
and  getting  Caught. — 8.  Isabel  Marlay. — 9.  Lovers  and  Lovers. — 
10.  Plausaby,  Esq.,  takes  a  Fatherly  Interest.— 11,  About  Several 
Things.— 12.  An  Adventure.— 13.  A  Shelter.— 14.  The  Inhabitant. 
— 15.  An  Episode. — 16.  The  Return. — 17.  Sawney  and  his  Old  Love. 
—18.  A  Collision.— 19.  Standing  Guard  in  Vain.— 20.  Sawney  and 
Westcott.— 21.  Rowing.— 22.  Sailing.— 23.  Sinking.— 24.  Dragging. 
—25.  Afterwards.— 26.  The  Mystery.— 27.  The  Arrest.— 28.  The 
Tempter.— 29.  The  Trial.— 30.  The  Penitentiary.— 31.  Mr.  Lurton. 
— 32.  A  Confession.— 33.  Death. — 34.  Mr.  Lurton's  Courtship. — 35. 
Unbarred.— 36.  Isabel.— 37.  The  Last.— Words  Afterwards. 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— BY  FRANK  BEARD. 

His  Unselfish  Love  found  a  Melancholy  Recompense. — The 
Superior  Being — Mr.  Minorkey  and  the  Fat  Gentleman. — Plau- 
eaby  sells  Lots. — "  By  George  !  He !  he  !  he  !  " — Mrs.  Plausaby. — 
The  Inhabitant. — A  Pinch  of  Snuff. — Mrs.  Ferret — One  Savage 
Blow  full  in  the  face.— "  What  on  Airth's  the  Matter?"— The 
Editor  of  "  The  Windmill."—'4  Get  up  and  Foller !  " 

PRICE,    POST-PAID,   $1.50. 

O.  JUDD    CO., 
DAVID  W.  JUDD,  Pres't.  SAM'L  BURNHAM,  Sec. 

751    BROADWAY,  NEW    YORK. 


<* 


'875 


•Si 


